Ring Out Solstice Bells
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: Sam and Dean pull into a small town to hunt something that kills a dozen people every year. Tragedy strikes the brothers when Sam is targeted as a victim. With Sam's life in the balance, Dean races to unwrap the secret before Sam is lost forever. HurtSam!
1. Horses, Bogs and Livers, Oh My!

_A/N: This is a holiday story I wanted to get started before solstice. My beta is a Sam girl and said she would love a hurt Sam with horses in it. This is what happened. She hasn't seen this yet, I couldn't let her beta her gift, so all mistakes are mine! This story is for her and all the Sam girls who have supported me this year. Thank you all so much! I hope you like my story, it's hurt Sam all the way! Don't worry, I will be posting to Be Still and Behind the Wall, too! And a little holiday gift is in the making for the Dean girls out there, hurt Dean galore, in the long promised Waxing and Waning sequel, which I plan to start before Twelfth Night._

_A/N II: I am consciously blending mythologies and mixing up a bit of lore. I am not trying to portray any one ritual or myth accurately, but drawing on a wealth of information from Northern Europe—from the megalith builders to the Celts, Saxons and Viking. Title is from the song by Jethro Tull._

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter One**

**Horses, Bogs and Livers, Oh My!**

Fog covered the landscape, a thick wall obscuring the road, causing the trunks of the stunted trees to rise like black ghosts at the edge of the highway. The road was slick, gleaming darkly in the faint daylight. Sounds were muffled, even the rumble of the Impala was lost in the thick gray blanket covering everything around it. Dean had compensated by turning up the stereo and Led Zeppelin was currently blaring out of the speakers.

"You need to turn right at the stoplight," Sam said.

"Stoplight? Where?" Dean said, peering out the window, visibility was down to about three inches. _And how much slower can I actually go and still be moving forward?_ The Impala was creeping along, Dean had his eyes glued to the fog line on the right-hand side of the road.

"There is supposed to be one out here somewhere."

"Right, and we will be through it before we see it," Dean said, slowing down a little more.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

Dean looked up and saw a horse materialize out of the fog, drifting across the road in front of them. He slammed on the brakes, the horse stopped and looked at the car, at least is seemed that way. It was hard to make out anything but the dark shape in the fog. It stood there for several seconds, Dean felt a chill creeping through the car, like tendrils of fog working their way into it. He honked the horn. The horse threw its head in the air and turned, moving towards them. The cold intensified, the horse drew closer, it was suddenly hard to breathe. The fog was filling his lungs, his mind, the world went gray, Dean felt his head drop back on the seat. It was suddenly silent.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was shaky. When he didn't answer Sam shook him. "Dean?"

"You ok?" Dean said, forcing his eye open and looking over at his brother. _Hey, Sammy, you look freaked. Nice look. _His head was pounding and he had that odd feeling that a night of too much tequila usually generated.

"Yeah, you?" Sam said, looking at him, concern written on his features.

"Yep."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Dean said, easing the car forward again. _What the hell happened?_"Something about that horse, I think?"

"I…maybe…" Sam broke off. Dean glanced over, his brother was staring out the window, looking a little sick.

"Sam?"

"I…I don't know. It was there in front of us and then…I don't know."

"Yeah, fun place Sammy, why again are we here?" Dean said, trying to change the mood, wondering what had affected his brother so deeply. _Ok, blacking—or graying—out is a little strange, but Sam seems a little freaked and he doesn't freak all that easily. _

Sam looked over with a little frown. "The bodies? The twelve bodies that are found every year around the solstice?"

"Yeah, right," Dean said. Sam still looked a little off, so Dean persisted. _Nothing like a little geeking to take Sammy's mind off of something._"Twelve bodies?"

"Well, not actually bodies," Sam continued. "Twelve people go missing and twelve livers are found at the edge of a bog. One each morning, leading up to the solstice." Sam looked over at him. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I found something more," Sam said.

"What?"

"There is another victim, found on the morning of the solstice. Always a man under thirty but over twenty-one."

"So thirteen dead people," Dean said. "Nice."

"Yes and no."

"Huh?"

"The thirteenth victim, the body is alive but…and it stays alive until the moment of the solstice one year later, at that instant it, the body, dies and then another one is found in the same state that day, and it goes on, every year."

"So they're alive but dead?"

"Pretty much."

"Do we know why?"

"Not yet. I was planning to do a little more research before we went out tonight."

"If we ever find civilization again," Dean said sourly. Sam sounded a little better, but he still had a frown on his face. Dean recognized it, it was the concerned frown. The "I might be more worried than I'm letting on" frown. Dean noticed a series of yellow reflectors in the fog line, slowly out of the thick fog a stoplight became visible. He let out a sigh of relief. _Getting off the road for an hour or two will be nice. _"How far from the stoplight, Sam?"

"About three and a half miles."

The buildings of the small resort town passed by ghost-like in the fog. Appearing and then drifting out of view, never in focus, just shapes in the soft gray blanket. Dean kept his eye on the odometer and after three miles started watching for a sign to the motel. _Sam was right, exactly three and a half miles. _Dean turned onto the one lane road that led up to the motel and pulled up at the office. "Be right back."

The office was warm, a fire burning merrily in the large fireplace. A Christmas tree held the place of honor in the corner opposite the door and holly decorated the mantelpiece. There were large candles in silver holders on the desk and an interesting hanging on the wall with a small branch in it, slightly gold-colored with white berries. Dean rang the bell.

"Can I help you?" a dark-hair woman came out of the office.

_Oh, yeah, you can help me. _"I need a room for a couple of nights, two beds," Dean said, smiling his best smile. The one guaranteed to melt every heart.

She smiled back. "We're having a holiday special, our third floor view suite with two queens, fireplace, microwave, fridge and spa tub is the same price as a ground floor room, third night is free and you get a credit at the restaurant."

"Sounds almost too good to be true. Is there internet?"

"Yes," she said. "And we just re-opened the pool, hot tubs and sauna. Since it's off season you are our only guests right now."

"Nice," Dean said, signing for the room and reaching for a credit card.

"You can pay when you check out, Mr. Butler," she said, smiling at him. "You're in room 333. I hope you enjoy your stay." She handed him two keys and pointed the way to their room.

"Thanks," Dean said, trying the smile again. _Well, I'm a little tired. It might not be working at peak performance right now._ He dropped back into the car and drove through the parking lot to the spot marked 333.

Sam looked over at him. "Dean?"

"They're having a special," he said with a shrug.

It was a large room with a balcony overlooking the wildlife refuge. _Not that I can see anything but balcony in this fog. _Dean could hear the irritated quacking of a duck out somewhere in the mists. Crows were cawing there was another bird, it sounded a little like a crow, but deeper with a gravely tone in its voice. Dean looked over at his brother.

"Raven," Sam said, walking up beside Dean. "Nice view of the fog."

"Yep," Dean said. He turned the gas fireplace on and wandered back through the room, looking in at the large spa tub in the bathroom. He was grinning when he sat down at the table by the fireplace. Sam already had the laptop open and was frowning at something on the screen. "Want to eat before we head out? We have a credit at the restaurant."

"Sure," Sam said, snapping the laptop closed.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Uh, nothing," Sam said, standing. "Let's eat."

They were the only diner in the large room. The waitress brought them drinks, she explained they were complementary when Sam tried to send his back. They ordered dinner, Dean happily settling on the prime rib special. Sam rolled his eyes when Dean sighed "sixteen ounces, Sammy." Dinner came, the waitress was attentive, bringing them another round of drinks and then making suggestions for dessert. They decided to try the cranberry and pear pie. Cranberries were, according to June the waitress, a local specialty. The bill for the whole meal was picked up by the motel. Sam frowned a little at that.

"What?"

"Just seems a little odd, don't you think, Dean?"

"It's part of the special, Sammy," Dean said, getting into the car. "Where are we headed?"

"Turn left when you get back to the highway," Sam said, looking out the window. "It looks like the fog is lifting a little."

"Maybe," Dean said. The trees along the road were a little more visible. _Although that is not really comforting, those are some of the creepiest trees I have ever seen. _ The pines, stunted from growing in salty sand, gnarled, branches oddly sparse were covered with moss, bright against the black of the trunks. The undergrowth, where visible in the twisting tendrils of mist, was dark, nearly black and reeds rose at odd angles, indicating it was far wetter just off the road than it might look at first glance. An open area loomed up on Dean's left, the square pond covered with blood-red plants.

"Cranberries," Sam said softly.

Dean looked over at his brother, something in Sam's tone alerted him to trouble. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"What?"

"Nothing," Sam said, looking out his window. He took a deep breath. "Dean, that horse—did it…was it…what happened to you?"

"I felt cold, then everything went foggy," Dean laughed, trying to shake his brother's mood. "You?"

"I, uh," Sam looked over, his eyes looked a little haunted. "It looked at me."

"Looked at you?"

"Yeah, and then…" He stopped, swallowing hard.

"Sam?" Full blown alarm bells were ringing, blocking out everything including Zeppelin.

"I, I don't know," Sam said.

"We're going back to the hotel," Dean said.

"No, we have to hunt tonight, Dean, someone is going to die," Sam said. He put a hand on Dean's arm. "I'm ok, really."

Dean frowned at Sam._You don't look ok. We need to hunt, you're right, but all of a sudden I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this. _"We'll go out to where they find the livers, but nothing else."

"I'm fine," Sam said, still looking a little sick.

"Yep, sure you are."

They were silent. Dean watching the fog line and the odd forest drift by, Sam seemed caught in his own thoughts. Dean was covertly watching his brother, Sam had a frown on his face, looking inward even though his face was turned towards the window.

"I think this is the turn coming up," Sam said suddenly. "Winthrop road."

Dean turned carefully onto the narrow muddy track. Along the road birch trees were mingled with the pines, their stark white trunks looking like bones rising out of the fog. The forest opened a little as the road turned and Dean could see the black edges of a bog. He pulled the car over and they got out. As they got closer he could smell the rotten smell of the pond, ancient vegetation mixing with other scents, dead, decaying things, lost from view in the swirling mists. Two large rocks, just visible as dark shadows in the fog, sat at one side of the bog.

"Nice place," Dean said looking at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam said with a wan smile. Sam turned and walked along the edge of the bog. He stopped by a large flat rock. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean said, walking from where he had been exploring the other edge of the pond. He could just make out Sam, a solid figure in the shifting mist.

"This looks like an altar." Sam was crouching down by a flat stone.

Dean looked down at the stone, even though it was wet he could see the darker stains of blood. The rock was decorated with spirals, blood had pooled in the deeper parts of the design. "Nice."

"Yeah," Sam said, looking around them. "I don't see many footprints." He walked away, watching the ground. "These look like hoof prints."

"Hoof? As in horse?"

"Yeah," Sam said, the sick look back on his face. "I think we might be dealing with the _each uisge_. It can take the form of a horse. It drags its victims into the water and then devours everything."

"Except the liver?" Dean said, looking at his brother. "There's more, what?"

"Well, this isn't really all that consistent with the lore. The twelve dead victims and then the thirteenth. The livers match, but I'm not sure about the rest."

"Then what's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Sam was walking around the edge of the bog, into the dense undergrowth. His figure faded into the thick fog.

"Don't go too far, Sam," Dean said, looking back down at the stone and the hoof prints that went from the rock into the water. "Sam?" Silence. "Sammy?" Dean strained, trying to catch any sound. The fog swirled around him, cold, getting colder. He thought he heard something large moving through the undergrowth. "Sam?" Dean had his gun out and was moving in the direction Sam had been going. _I'm panicking for no reason. He is just concentrating and didn't hear me, sounds is a little weird out here anyway. No, he'd answer. _"SAM!"

Silence. Dean stopped, listening. Something was moving again, it was growing colder, he was having a hard time breathing, the fog was filling his lungs, his mind. His legs went out from under him and he dropped to his knees.

"Dean?" his brother's voice, pain-soaked full of fear, terror, barely audible.

"Sam!" Dean forced himself up and through the bushes, feeling blackberry thorns tearing at his hands and face as he pushed through, trying to get to where Sam's voice had come from.

Sam screamed and then there was the sound of a splash, then silence again.

Dean broke through the undergrowth to the edge of the bog. He saw the huge horse disappear into the fog shrouded water. It was dragging something. "Sam!" Dean yelled again, recognizing his brother's jacket. Something moved behind Dean. The cold filled him, the fog entering his mind, taking everything away. He felt himself hit the ground, he was aware of the cold seeping into his clothing, he couldn't move, he was held trapped in the mist.

Something stepped over him. He had the brief vision of graying flesh of the huge figure before he closed his eyes, somehow knowing he shouldn't look at it anymore. Something cold, slimy, touched his face, fetid breath smelling of death wafted over his face. He kept his eyes closed. Whatever it was rolled him over, he couldn't fight it. Dean felt the weight of a foot on his back. In the distance he heard what sounded like dogs howling and barking.

Another scream tore through the air. _Sam? No, please. _The weight suddenly shifted and the world went black. _No, I have to get to Sam. _Dean forced his eyes open, wondering how much time had passed since that scream. He managed to get to his feet, the fog had lifted a little more, he could make out the huge rocks in the bog much better. Lying on one of them... "Sam!" He waded out into the water, feeling the muck pulling at his shoes, the reeds catching him, trying to prevent him from getting to his brother. Dean had to swim the last few yards, the cold water pulling his energy away into it.

He finally reached Sam. After trying to climb onto the slick rock and falling twice, Dean just pulled his brother down and into his arms. He somehow managed to get them both back to shore and pulled Sam out onto the ground. There was blood on Sam's face. The left sleeve of his coat was tattered, bitten through, blood flowing out of the wound on his arm. There was a gash in his side.

Sam wasn't breathing.

Dean put his hand against Sam's throat feeling for a pulse.

Sam's heart wasn't beating.

Dean felt the cold begin again, the fog getting thick, obscuring his vision.

He started CPR.

The horse-thing was moving closer, he could feel the ground vibrating with its steps.

_Come on Sam. _

Dean could now hear the dogs getting closer and the sound of more hooves, beating against the ground galloping towards him.

He kept the rhythm, kept the count. Compressions, breath, compressions breath.

The horses stopped, he could hear them shifting out in the fog, something that sounded like bells chiming softly in the mists. They were watching him, he knew that, sensed their eyes, felt a chill run up his spine, soft whispers of conversation drifted through the fog, the language unrecognizable.

The horse was getting closer, the fog began filling Dean's mind, his hands were slowing, the compressions stopping. He couldn't breath. _No, Sam, hang on._A shout, human, but somehow not, flowed over them, the horse stopped and whinnied. The voice called again and the horse backed off, the fog retreating from Dean's mind as it moved away. Still they waited watching.

Sam suddenly coughed, he drew a ragged breath, a little moan of pain escaping his lips.

The horses were moving again, getting closer, all of them. A hand touched Dean, cold, pulling the warmth out of him, taking his breath way. Dean fell. Someone was holding him immobile, the lifeless hands pressing him into the earth. The hands held his head so he was forced to look at Sam. _Hang on Sam. I'm right here. _ He could hear the bell clearly now, someone was chanting softly, words he didn't recognize. A man walked over to Sam.

"Leave my brother alone," he managed to say.

The figure bent over Sam, Dean saw a hand, nearly human, touch Sam's face, his brother moaned. The man sighed. "Yes," he drew a small curved blade from his belt.

"NO!" Dean shouted, the hands pressed him harder into the earth, their claw-like nails tearing into his skin.

The man gently pulled the fabric of Sam's shirt away. He spoke softly in the language, it sounded old somehow, and then drew something on Sam's chest with his finger. It looked like a complicated design of some kind. When he was finished he placed two fingers on Sam's forehead, pausing for a moment, waiting for something. Suddenly Sam's body arched. The man looked at Dean briefly. He was human, then his face shifted, young to old, living to dead, flesh to decay. The man pulled his hand away from Sam's forehead and then…

"No, please no," Dean said.

The man took the curved blade and slowly drew it across Sam's neck, blood tracing the passage.

"NO!" Dean screamed. The man looked into Dean's eyes, darkness became visible and the world was swept away in the darkening fog.

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Bells, Doctors and the Sleeping King

_A/N: For those of you following the saga of my novel—it is finished and in the mail and out of my hands now! Crossed fingers are much appreciated. And now that it is finished I will be calming my nerves with Fanfic, so more stories with nice fast updates! Thank you everyone for your patience with me these last months!_

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Two**

**Bells, Doctors and the Sleeping King **

The soft chiming of bells filled the air. The sound creeping through the night like fog, touching everything, leaving the physical brush of its touch, sound became tactile, as it caressed everything around it. The smell of wet, of decay, of death floated with the sound of the bells. Someone was singing softly, a chant in a language ancient, the single deep voice slowly joined by female voices, different somehow, without the deep echo of the first voice.

A scream shattered the almost tranquil scene.

Dean opened his eyes. The gray horse was pulling someone towards the bog. It had the man's arm gripped between its teeth. The horse dragged the man into the water, he was screaming as its jaws closed over him, Dean saw a spray of blood erupt from the man just as he was dragged beneath the surface of the black pond. Several minutes later the horse reappeared and dropped something on the flat stone by the bog. _That would be the liver. How lovely is that? _The horse looked over at him, Dean shut his eyes, blocking the look. The chanting grew louder. Dean heard movement, then a touch on his face, Dean opened his eyes and looked into the face of the man who had slit Sam's throat. The face was shifting like the fog.

The man said something, the words made no sense, but then Dean froze, while the words he heard made no sense they formed meaning in his brain. "He is better than we could have asked, thank you." And the man moved off. Dean heard the horses begin to leave, the hounds with them baying again. He was released, whatever held him was leaving as well.

"Sam." Dean rolled over and pushed himself up. _Well as far up as I can manage. _He crawled over to his brother. _God, Sam. _Dean reached a shaking hand out and checked for a pulse. "You're alive, Sam, good job."

Dean looked at Sam's arm, the flesh was torn where the horse had bitten down on it. The cut in Sam's throat wasn't deep, but it was seeping blood, there was a tiny mark, it looked almost like a burn, on Sam's forehead where the man had touched him. Dean checked his brother's chest, there was nothing there, even though Dean knew the man had drawn something. _He did use a finger though, not sure what I was expecting to find. Come on, Sammy, time to get up._

As if on cue his brother groaned, coughing a little. "Dean?" Sam said. Well, at least that was probably what he meant to say, it came out as more of a grunt.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You ok?" Sam opened his eyes.

"Yep," Dean said. "Let's get you back to the car and maybe have that arm looked at?"

"You can take care of it, Dean," Sam said as he allowed Dean to pull him to his feet.

"Sam…" Dean said, bracing himself for a fight. They were only a few feet from the car when Sam stumbled then fell against Dean. _Ok, don't need to fight. Hospital time for Sammy. _He dragged his brother the rest of the way to the car and dropped him in. Dean eased the car back onto the road. _The fog has lifted a little more, I can almost see ten feet in front of me. Nice. I saw a hospital sign as we pulled in I think, where we turned right into town, left would have taken us to the hospital._

"Hang on, Sam, almost there," he said as his brother groaned.

"M…k," Sam said.

"You are not ok." Dean said. He noticed the hospital sign on the right hand side of the road. _Five miles. _He kept an eye on the fog line, the car was moving through patches of thicker mists as he drove down the dark road. The occasional street light cast ghostly beams through the mists, illuminating the area under it, making everything around seem darker, less visible.

Dean swung the Impala into the ER entrance of the small hospital. It looked more like a hotel than a medical facility, bright glass and chrome on the outside. Dean walked around the car and pulled his brother out, Sam stumbled beside him as he maneuvered them into the ER.

A pretty blonde woman in scrubs looked up as they came in. She frowned for an instant and then her face broke into a wide, excited and happy smile. She stood, walking over towards them. "This way," she said, leading them behind the doors into an exam room. Dean settled Sam on the bed.

She smiled at Dean and gently pushed him aside as she started an IV in Sam's arm. "How's your pain?" she asked.

"It's good," Sam said a little thickly.

She huffed a little. "On a scale of one to ten where is it?"

"Seven? Eight maybe?" Sam said, rolling his eyes over to Dean. _Yeah, you weren't fooling me, Sammy, might as well be truthful with the nice nurse. _She nodded and left.

Dean walked over to the bed. He leaned against it and watched the activity in the hall. The nurse had stopped a tall man and was talking to him, the wide excited smile on her face. They both glanced over at the room. Dean waved. They spoke a minute more and then the man nodded and the nurse stopped behind the desk to get something. Dean watched her a moment longer before something caught his eye, behind the desk on the wall under the clock was another of the small branches with gold-green leaves and white berries. _What the hell? _The "trouble" alarm in his head was starting to go off. _We are in a hospital, that's all that's making me nervous, I hate these places._

The nurse came back in the room. "I have something to help with the pain before we take care of that arm," she said gently. She slid a syringe full of golden liquid into the port of the IV.

"No," Dean said, suddenly. It was too late, the plunger depressed. Sam turned to look at him with a frown on his face. "Sam?" Dean said, he heard a frantic note in his voice as his brother's eyes rolled up in his head and his eyelids drifted closed. "What did you give him?"

"Just pain meds, that's all," she said, looking at him. "That way I can take care of his arm."

"No."

"It's ok," his brother murmured. Dean looked down at Sam. The alarm in his head was still going off full blast.

"No." Dean took a step towards her, a large security guard suddenly appeared in the door.

"Why don't you wait while we take care of this?" the nurse said.

"No."

"Yes," the guard said, taking an arm in a giant hand. He pulled Dean out of the room, as he left he saw the nurse carefully snipping Sam's sleeve away from his arm. The guard deposited Dean in the waiting room and stood facing him, back to the doors that led into emergency. Dean sighed._You hurt Sam and you're all dead. _A large Christmas tree was in the corner of the waiting room, the tree was decorated with bright glass bulbs and chains of cranberries and silver beads. Dean walked over to look at it, a wreath with the gold branches hung on the wall behind it, tiny silver bells were framed in the center of the wreath and amongst the bells a tiny curved knife.

_I need to get to Sam. I have to find a way back there. _He looked around, the mammoth guard was still blocking the doors to the ER. _Ok, plan B._Dean walked over towards the guard, he saw the man tense as he approached. _See how friendly I am, just want to chat. _Dean grinned at the man. "Sorry about that," he said conversationally. "It's my kid brother." He shrugged. "Is there someplace to get a cup of coffee? I'm dying."

The guard looked at him for a minute, then seemed to give in. He smiled at Dean. "Sure, through those doors, follow the green line on the floor."

Dean glanced over at the doors he'd indicated, they led away from the ER. _Still it's a start. _"Thanks." He wandered through the doors, trying to look casual. _Not repressing an urge to run at all. You hurt Sammy and you're all dead. _When he was on the other side of the doors he looked down at the floor. Green, red, blue and a faint shimmering line, hardly a color just a brighter reflection on the tiles, were painted on the floor. _Red could mean emergency. _He started following the red line. The green and blue lines broke off at the next junction of the hallway, the red and the shimmering ones continued on. Dean went a little further. In the middle of the hallway the shimmering line broke off. He looked down a short corridor with a single door at the end. _What the hell?_

Dean followed the shimmering line down the short hallway and stopped in front of the door. Another of the wreaths with the bells and the tiny curved knife hung on the door. Checking to make sure he was alone in the corridor, Dean slipped into the room. _Not to repeat myself, but what the hell? _There was a bed in the center of the room, the room was decorated in rich tones, a thick rug on the floor, heavy velvet drapes on the windows. A large table stood against one wall, it was covered with candles and bowls, Dean walked over towards it. _Yep, altar. _He finally turned to the bed. The figure lying there was alive, the chest rising and falling with even breaths. There was an IV and something else. _Feeding tube? _

Dean got closer to the bed, the man looked vaguely familiar. A faint scar marked the man's neck. Dean pulled the silken blanket down and gently tugged the velvet robe away from the man's chest, an intricate pattern was drawn there, black against the pale skin, looking like a tattoo. He looked back at the man's face, trying to place it, then, in sudden recognition he gasped, the sound loud in the quiet room. _The man who slit Sam's throat, I think this is him. _

"Who are you?" a female voice said from behind him. Dean turned, an older woman, maybe sixty-five stood in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" She took a step towards him. "He only has two days left, can't you leave him in peace?"

"What?" Dean said.

She had stopped and was looking at him, an intense searching look. "You aren't one of them, are you?"

"One of who?"

"What's your name?"

"Dean," he said. "One of who?"

"Dean," she smiled. "My name is Vivian. Sorry, it's been a long time." Her eyes had filled with tears. "Not much longer, though, solstice is in two days." She sank down in a plush chair beside the bed. "Finally he can rest," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled sadly. "The year is over. It's been a long year. I haven't left him, though. I kept hoping they would relax the vigilance so I could let him go, free him, you know, but every time I tried they stopped me. At one point they wouldn't let me in here, that's when I promised, you know, to stop trying." The tears were running down her face, sparkling in the candlelit room like jewels. "They took them both, both my sons."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, moved by the sadness on Vivian's face. "Can you tell me more?"

She looked at him again. "You'll believe me, won't you? I tried to call the state police and they said I was crazy, the doctor here told them my son had been in an accident and was just in a coma and it was grief driving me a little nuts."

"I'll believe." He said, squatting down so he was on her level.

"We came last year for vacation. We stayed at the hotel at the other end of town. They were having a special, you know." She looked over at Dean. _Yeah, I know, a too good to be true kind of special? Spa room for the price of the crappy downstairs room? Credit at the restaurant? _"The second night we were here, both boys disappeared. I found Kevin the next morning, he was disoriented and bleeding, Eric was gone. I brought Kevin here to the hospital, he disappeared from here the next night, they 'found' him the next day out by that horrible pond. He was like this, he's never changed, this whole long year. He's dead, his soul gone, just the body is alive, but not for long now, on solstice he gets to rest." She said the last with a soft sigh, grief-filled but relieved as well. "Why are you here?" she said again.

"I followed the yellow-brick road," he said with a small smile. "My brother is in the ER and I was trying to get back to him."

"Was he…is he…?" she looked at him with fear in her eyes. He knew it was for him, for Sam.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, I think so."

**XXX**

The nurse was carefully snipping the bandage from his arm. Gently tugging the fabric from torn flesh. Sam was, fascinated by the process. _That would be the drugs, no doubt. _His mind was drifting like the fog outside. Fear curling around him like the mists. From the moment the horse had stopped beside the Impala, its ancient dead eyes meeting his, he had known it was over, too late to save himself. The brief research in the hotel room had confirmed his suspicions. Then those moments at the bog, the _each uisge_ dragging him into the water, the flash of pain as it bit his arm, as it tore at his side. Then there was silence, long moments of silence, broken finally by the ringing of bells and the voice, deep, ancient, telling him what was to come. He had hoped, when the silver sickle had appeared, it meant the end.

But, no, it was only the beginning.

"What did you give me?" he asked through the shifting mist.

"Just something to help with the pain," the nurse said.

Sam looked over at her. "No there's something more, I think." She smiled at him and walked to the cupboard, she pulled a large jar off of one of the shelves and smeared a thick sweet scented paste on his arm. She put another smear on his neck. Whatever it was numbed the wounds. Sam watched as she bandaged his arms, then closed his eyes as she carefully wrapped gauze around his neck. _I wonder where Dean is?_She finished and gently patted his chest. He opened his eyes. "Where's my brother?"

She smiled at him again, then turned as a tall man came in the room. Even though the man was in scrubs, obviously a doctor, he seemed to defer to the woman. "The brother found Him," the man said.

"Tonight," she said softly. "He will feed Them tonight."

_They're talking about Dean. _"No," Sam said. They turned to look at him. "Please."

"Sorry," she said, walking back to him and gently stroking his hair. "Yes."

"No. Please." _What can I do?_

"It's ok, he won't suffer for long," she said in a soothing voice. "We'll keep you here until just before the ritual. You'll be safe and warm."

_No, I have to get out of here, I have to help Dean somehow. _He was hazy, the pain meds keeping a curtain between him and reality. "No," he said, desperately casting around for something to use to save Dean. A stray thought, something from his research, drifted into his mind. He looked at her, met her eyes. "My brother, you can't take him."

"We have to, honey," she said, still stroking his hair.

"No. If you agree to leave him alone, let him live…" Sam took a deep breath. _This is going to happen one way or the other, maybe this way, at least, I can save Dean. _"Let him live and I will participate willingly. I will come to the ritual, I will go when the time is here. Everything, willingly."

She stopped stroking his hair and looked at him, her hand still resting gently on his head. "You know what's happening?"

"Yes," he said. "I know. I understand what it means." _It means in two days I'm dead._

"It's an honor, being chosen. When he saw you, we knew. It's not like death, it's better."

_Better than death, fun. _"And I want to be able to leave here. I'll come to the ritual, but I want to spend my last days with my brother."

"It is as it was once," the tall man said. "All of it. Willing to come, time with the family. It is as it was, the ritual will be complete." He cleared his throat. "My lady."

She looked at him for a long moment, Sam watched as the man blushed, then she nodded. "Yes, yes. The first time in a century." She turned back to Sam, searching his eyes. "Everything, willingly? What comes tonight, the preparation, everything?"

Sam swallowed. "Everything."

"Including this?" She held up another syringe, this one was full of shimmering silvery liquid.

_High tech, it used to be drink out of the cup, now it's in the arm. Advances, nice. _Sam nodded. "Yes, everything."

"The brother lives, find someone else for tonight," she said to the tall man. "Bring his brother back here so they can go."

"We have a deal?" Sam said.

"We have a deal." She bent forward and gently kissed him on the mouth. "It is sealed."

"Yes," Sam said. She twisted the syringe on the IV and slowly, very slowly, depressed the plunger. Sam watched as the first silvery drops of his death ran out of the syringe and into his arm.He let his eyes close as the liquid burned through his veins, he felt his breathing alter a tiny bit, felt the cold fog slip around him, already pulling him to someplace else. He felt her pull the IV from his arm, heard her step away. He drifted in the mists, flitting between worlds, unknown words filling his head.

A hand dropped on his shoulder. "Hey, you ready to get out of here?" Dean said.

"Yeah," he opened his eyes. "What is it?" There was something a little odd in his brother's eyes.

"Nothing," Dean said with a forced smile. "Let's go, ok?"

Sam swung his legs off the bed and stood, swaying a little. Dean put a hand out to steady him. "I'm ok."

"Yeah, you're just hungry."

"Probably," Sam said, going along with the farce.

The woman came back into the room with a small paper bag in her hands. "Here is the antibiotic. You need to take half of one bottle this afternoon and then the rest about ten tonight. Then the same tomorrow."

"Thanks." Sam took the bag from her. He felt Dean's eyes on him. He knew his hands were shaking, he hoped his brother would think it was a reaction to the wounds, the colds what had happened in the night.

It was bright, sunny and cold when they walked out of the hospital toward the Impala. A raven croaked from somewhere to Sam's left, he could hear the calls of crows echoing in the shining morning light, and somewhere beneath it all, the sound of bells, of horses and singing and the baying of hounds. He looked at Dean wondering if his brother could hear it. Dean smiled at him as they reached the car.

Sam dropped into the Impala and stowed the "medicine" under the seat. _I wonder how it will affect me? Will Dean notice? Should I tell him?_

"Sammy?" Dean said softly, concerned.

"Yeah?" Sam said, looking over at him.

"I...uh…" Dean looked away, out the window. "Breakfast?"

"Sure." _What is it, Dean? You ever think if we talked a little more we might avoid disaster more often? No? _Sam leaned his head back, letting the sun warm his face. _I don't think there will be much sun for me in a couple of days. _He rolled his head a little to the side to watch Dean. His brother was focused on the road, his jaw clenched, the hands on the wheel white-knuckled.

"It's ok, Dean," he whispered. Sam let his eyes close, listening to the call of the bells and the howling of the beasts. _I wonder what happens tonight? I don't think I die tonight, that's tomorrow, but what happens tonight? _And the bells chimed gently and a song started, singing softly, a deep voice calling him away.

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. I Heard the Raven Call My Name

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Three**

**I Heard the Raven Call My Name**

The sun was out, the fog had lifted for the time being and the world was washed in bright winter light. Fields lined part of the road they were driving along, horses calmly walking in golden grass. Water shimmered in many pools, some filled with huge glacial rocks, others outlined in trees with white trunks like bones, placed there by a cautious hand. In one open space crows and ravens had gathered, pulling at something on the ground. As they drove further, the strange stunted pine trees lined road, their black trunks and odd, bulbous puffs of greenery somehow sinister, even in the bright light.

Dean tried to relax the tension in his shoulders, tried to get his hands to release the death grip on the steering wheel. It wasn't working. Shortly after they had left the hospital Sam had whispered "It's ok." Then he had started humming. _Which wouldn't really be a problem, except I think it's that song they were singing at the bog last night and that is anything but ok, Sammy._ _Something happened at the hospital, what? I should tell him about Vivian and what I found in that room. He could start researching that. _He glanced over at Sam. His brother had his eyes closed with his face turned towards the sun. _Something is wrong. Not going to let it slide for long, Sam. After we eat, although I think we will avoid the hotel restaurant for a day or two._

As he drove through town he started looking for somewhere to eat. Dean ended up bypassing every restaurant in town and continuing down the highway, beyond the turn to the hotel and even past the turn onto Winthrop Road and the bog where they had been the night before. He was getting ready to turn around and head back towards the town, when buildings started appearing along the road again. The dense forest thinning and then they were in another town. _Just like that. Weird. _A large feed store was on the corner of the main intersection and across the street…_Does that say…? It does. _Dean pulled into the parking lot of the small restaurant.

"Time to eat, Sam," he said, gently shaking his brother.

"Ok." Sam opened his eyes and sat up. "Pizza? I thought you said breakfast."

"Look at the sign, Sammy," Dean said with a grin. His brother dutifully looked out the window at the large hand-painted sign over the door.

"Does that say…?" Sam said with disbelief.

"Yep. Fried chicken pizza," Dean said with a happy sigh.

"For breakfast?" Sam said, getting out of the car with a little grimace of pain.

"Why not?" Dean opened the door. The small restaurant was immaculately clean and smelled of fresh bread and spices. The place was empty. Dean sat down at a table by the window. "Smells good in here." Dean was watching Sam, his brother did not seem like he was all the way there. "Sam?"

"Huh?"

"What?" _Out with it, Sam. Time to spill. _

"What do you mean?" Sam said, half focused on him.

"Hello," a thirtyish man said as he approached the table. Sam looked relieved by the interruption. _Not for long, Sam. _"Can I get you something to drink?" he said, putting menus on the table.

"Coffee," Dean said and glanced at Sam. He frowned when his brother ordered "just water." Dean glanced down at the menu, giving Sam a minute to relax before he jumped on him again. The man came back with Dean's coffee and Sam's water and they ordered their food. Sam declining the pizza in favor of the homemade cinnamon rolls the restaurant offered. "I think we should check out of the hotel."

"No," Sam said.

"Yeah, I think we should. I think we should leave town," Dean said. Sam frowned at him. _Oops, might have said too much. He's giving me the look. _

"Why?"

Dean put his head in his hands, the weight that had settled on his heart the night before now seeming to slow the steady beat in his chest. His head ached. "Sam…"

"What happened at the hospital, Dean?"

_Oh, yeah, you ask me, right. Fine. Will you tell me if I ask? _"Swapsies," Dean said.

"What?"

"Swapsies. I tell if you tell."

"Very mature, Dean," Sam said with a little smile.

"I mean it, Sam," Dean said, stopping what he was about to say as the waiter approached the table with their food.

The man put the food down and then glanced at Sam. Almost as if it had moved on its own, his hand rose and touched the odd burn mark on Sam's forehead. "Oh my god. How did you escape?" he said softly. He dropped his hand and turned to leave, Dean grabbed his wrist preventing his escape.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was about?" Dean snapped as the man struggled to get free.

"Please, let me go," the man whispered.

"Nope," Dean said with a friendly smile. _See how friendly I am? And if you don't tell me what you meant a minute ago I will tear your arms off in a very friendly fashion. Sweet, kind, and rip, there they go._

"Please," the man said, trying to pull away.

"No, sit down," Dean said as he dragged the man towards a chair. "Tell us what you meant."

"I can't…" he said, running a hand over his eyes. "How did you escape the hospital?" he said, looking at Sam.

"Escape?" Sam said. Dean heard something in his brother's voice. _What, exactly are you hiding, Sam?_

"Once…" the man looked away, then back at Dean. "Once they had Chris, he never left, or so they said. They found him a couple of days later out by the bog on Winthrop Road. He was…" Tears formed in his eyes. "He never…and then last year he died, his body just stopped working."

"Brother?" Dean said gently, letting go of his wrist. The man rubbed it absently.

"Cousin, might has well have been my brother. I'm Jeff, by the way. You should eat the pizza before it congeals," he said with a soft laugh.

Dean turned to the food. He picked up a piece and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. _Ok, panicked about Sam, worried what this guy is about to tell us, but still, this is a great pizza. _"Dean, that's my brother Sam," he said, pointing at Sam with the slice of pizza. His brother was picking at the cinnamon roll and staring at the table. _We could be talking about baseball for all the reaction on his face. And you know how much that worries me, Sammy?_

"How did you escape?" Jeff asked again.

"I didn't," Sam mumbled.

"What?" Jeff said his face white. "They let you go?"

"Yeah," Sam said to the roll.

Dean looked at his brother with a frown, then turned back to Jeff. "Can you tell me more?"

Jeff shrugged. "I can tell you what I heard, don't know what's true and what's not. I heard it's some kind of cult that drugs people. They know people at the hospital."

"Do you believe that?"

"I do," Jeff said. Dean saw something flare behind the man's eyes.

"Except?"

He looked at Dean with haunted eyes. _Everyone has that look here, great. Just freaking great. _"You'll think I'm crazy." Jeff swallowed.

_If you knew how many times I've heard that in my lifetime. _"Probably not," Dean said, watching Sam. His brother was methodically tearing the cinnamon roll to tiny bits.

"I thought I saw him."

"What?" Dean said. Sam had finished with the roll and started in on the napkin.

"I went out there one night. I guess I was planning to leave a stone or something for a memorial, you know. I…" He paused for a moment. "I heard horses, they caught me there and dragged me to the edge of the water."

"The horses?" Dean said. Sam had reached across the table and snagged a piece of pizza, which he had begun to shred.

"Yeah, these two scary gray horses. Then riders, you know. One of them got off his horse, he had a curved knife in his hand. The horses held me," Jeff said, rubbing his wrist. Dean noticed faint scars on both wrists. "And he got to me, and I swear…no I know. It was Chris. He whispered 'run' to me, then his face changed, he said something to the horses in this weird language and they let me go, and I ran. I went back once or twice after that, I thought I saw him watching from the big black horse. I don't know. He was Chris and he wasn't if you know what I mean?"

Dean thought of the man who had slit Sam throat, the same man Vivian sat vigil over at the hospital. "Yeah, I do know." _She said they had never let him leave either. Sam? What the hell did you do? _He looked over at his brother. Dean picked up another piece of pizza. _This day is just getting better and better. _Sam had found another napkin and was tearing it apart. Dean noticed his brother's hands were shaking. _Not good, Sammy. Ok, we have to talk about this._

"Sorry," Jeff said, looking at Dean.

_He means sorry about Sam. _"Yeah," Dean said, the weight on his heart increasing, pulling a tight knot in the back of his neck. "Thanks."

"If you need anything let me know," Jeff said, standing. "More coffee?"

Dean looked down at his empty cup with surprise. _When did I drink that?_ "Sure." He smiled as Jeff went to get the pot. "Good pizza," he said to Sam. His brother was shredding another piece of the pizza. He didn't look up, just stayed focused on the act of destruction he was accomplishing. Jeff brought the coffee back and a pile of napkins which he dropped in front of Dean with a small smile.

Dean took another bite of pizza. Sam was shredding his way through the new pile of napkins. Three napkins later, Sam picked up his fork. _Good boy, Sammy, eat your food. _And drove it into his left hand, the tines piercing the flesh between the thumb and forefinger.

"Sam!" Dean was out of his chair, pulling the fork from his brother's hand. "What the hell are you doing?" he said, pressing one of the last whole napkins down on the wound on Sam's hand.

"Dean?" Sam said, confused, sounding almost he had just woken up. He looked down at his hand, where the blood was already saturating the napkin, then up at Dean. "What happened?"

"What?" Dean said, holding the napkin in place. "Hey, Jeff," he shouted. "You got a first aid kit?"

"Dean?" Sam said again. His brother sounded like he had when he was five and something had happened that he didn't understand and he needed Dean to fix it.

Jeff ran out of the back with a white box in his hands. "What happened?" he said, looking down at Sam's bloody hand.

"I guess napkins got boring," Dean said, digging through the first-aid kit one handed. He dragged out a large bandaid and put it on Sam's hand. "Thanks," he said to Jeff, handing him the box. Jeff took the hint and left. "Sam?"

His brother was staring down at his hand. "Did I do that?"

Dean scrubbed his hands across his face. "Let's go. I'll pay the bill. You wait in the car, ok? No forks." Dean watched Sam walk to the car and get in before he went to the cash register. "Sorry about the mess," he said to Jeff as he paid the check.

"It's ok," Jeff said. He frowned and grabbed Dean's wrist. "Try and get him out of here, I don't know if you can. Don't let Sam end up like Chris."

"I won't," Dean said. _I won't, simple as that, Sam dying is not an option. And I think that might be what I'm fighting here. Sorry, Sam, don't know what you did, but we have to undo it now. _Dean walked out to the car. Sam smiled as he dropped into the driver's seat.

"Sorry," Sam said, rubbing his hand a little.

"You should be, you shredded two perfectly good pieces of the best pizza I've eaten in a long time," Dean said, letting the subject drop until they were back at the room. _Then while he tells me what's going on, I'll pack and we can put this town behind us. _

He watched the buildings thin and then the forest pile against the road again. Mist was beginning to gather in eddies, swimming among the blackened trunks, obscuring the tops of the stunted trees. The undergrowth looked black as well in the damp where light rarely touched. They drove past the blood-red cranberry bog and finally turned into the lot at the hotel.

Dean followed Sam up the stairs. His brother stumbled once on the way up. When Dean opened the door Sam walked to his bed and sank down on it, the brown bag from the hospital clasped in his bandaged hand. Dean fussed around the room for several minutes, aware of his brother's stillness as he sat on the bed, the bag still in his hand. Dean tried to gently take it from Sam, but his brother held on to it.

"Ok," Dean said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Talk."

Sam looked at him with slightly unfocused eyes. "I…"

"When I was trying to get back to you, I found this room," Dean said. The look in Sam's eyes worried him. _Not drugged, maybe, but something is off. _"The man who cut your throat was there, unconscious, according to his mother he's been that way since last solstice."

"The Sleeping King," Sam said more to himself than Dean. He looked down at the bag he was holding in his hands.

"Sam?" Dean reached out and pulled Sam's head up so he could look in his brother's eyes. Sam's eyes were shifting, like the fog, something behind them, distant, terrifying. "What?" Dean snapped, the word coming out harsher, angrier, than he intended.

Sam looked at him for a minute, then shook his head a little. "What?"

"Ok, I'll try again. What's going on, Sam?" he said the words calm, patient. _And considering I am screaming in my head, that's a good thing. I want to grab him and shake him and make him talk. _

"I…uh…" Sam frowned a little. "Dean? My hand hurts."

"Stabbing a fork in it can make hurt," Dean said, watching Sam's face. _Ok, heading towards freaked. _

"Fork?"

"At the restaurant?"

"Did I do that?"

"You already asked that," Dean said. Sam's eyes drifted towards the window. Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders and gave him a hard shake. "Sam, come on."

Sam focused on Dean for a moment. "Sorry, it's the…" He stopped himself. "You found a room?"

_It's the what, Sam? Well? WHAT IS IT? _Dean took a deep breath, trying to stop his voice shouting in his head. "Yeah, the guy in there looked like the one on the black horse last night." _Wait, didn't Jeff say he saw Chris on a black horse? Same horse? What's going on? _"His mother said he's been there since last year. He was hurt one night and ended up at the hospital and he never left again, accept like Jeff's cousin, the night of the solstice."

"Jeff?"

"The guy at the restaurant?"

"Oh," Sam said, looking confused. "The man in the room?" Sam said, his eyes suddenly looking more like Sam. "Tell me about it."

_Are you back with me, Sam? _Dean carefully described the room to Sam, his brother's frown deepened as Dean told him about the altar, the man's rich robes and the furnishings in the room. "You said something about the Sleeping King?" Dean said, watching Sam carefully. His brother still seemed to be focused on what he was saying.

"I did?"

"Stay with me, Sam," Dean said as his brother looked confused again. "Yeah, you did."

"The Sleeping King, it's old lore, very old. The Winter King, he watches over, protects, the community he is from. I think he might also be Lord of the Hunt."

"Ok," Dean said.

Sam smiled, his "you don't get it, but nice try" smile. "The Hunt. Sometimes called the ghost hunt, or, well, it's known by many names. It's odd though, I never realized that the _each uisge_ were part of the Hunt. It fits, though, most of it."

"Fits?"

"With the lore. The King, the Lord of the Hunt, was sacrificed on the solstice."

"If he's sacrificed how come he's laying in the hospital?"

"It's the way the sacrifice works. The body stays alive for the 'reign' of the king. It has to, if the body dies so does the king. Traditionally, the community cares for the body. It must be easier now, with IVs and everything."

"Yeah, Vivian's son had an IV and maybe a feeding tube." Dean paused. "What happens at the end of the year?" _Only two days left till he rests, that's what Vivian said. What happens then?_

"A new King is chosen and goes through three rituals, then he ascends and becomes Lord of the Hunt and the other is released."

"He dies," Dean said, meeting his brother's eyes.

"He was already dead, Dean. When he becomes King there is no going back," Sam said, his gaze intent, pleading. "Actually," Sam said softly. "Once he is chosen it's too late." His brother's eyes drifted away, shifting like the mists, like the man's face the night before. His head was cocked a little as if he were listening to something.

"Sam!" Dean said. He gave Sam a little pinch on the arm.

"Ow," Sam said, looking at him. "Sorry, it's the…"

"The what?"

"I need to take a shower." Sam was off the bed and had the bathroom door closed before Dean could grab him. Dean heard the snick of the lock settling into place.

"Sam!" Dean hammered on the door. His brother ignored him. _I should just kick in the door, it might make me feel better. _He pushed his foot against the door, thinking about it. _Maybe not a good idea. I think I will dump that medicine down the drain, though. _He walked back to the bed. _Damn, he took it with him. We need to talk about this, Sam. I am completely panicked. I think…Were you trying to tell me…? _Dean swallowed. _Dying is not an option, Sammy. _

Dean wandered to the sliding door and opened it, stepping out onto the balcony. The fog was beginning to flow in a little. Just tiny silver wisps on the ground, but starting to thicken. A tiny flash of black and white caught Dean's eyes. He followed the flight of a small dark bird with white feathers in its tail. A frog was croaking somewhere in the grass and a duck was quacking with the indignation that only ducks seemed to achieve. There were crows wandering around a small pond, and a pair of ravens was sitting on a large flat rock beside the pond overseeing everything. Dean leaned on the balcony rail and put his head in his hands.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he said without looking up.

Dean heard his brother walk out beside him, then Sam's shoulder touched his. "I…" He sighed. "I need to take…"

"No, you can't" Dean said, looking over at Sam.

"I have to."

"No, hell no, Sam. God knows what that stuff is," he said. Sam had a sad smile in his face. _Oh, Sam, no. God, no. _"You know what it is, don't you?"

"I…" Sam sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "Yes and no. I know what it's for. I don't really know what's going to happen when I take it."

"You can't." Dean said, grabbing Sam's arm.

"I have to."

"No you don't, Sam, we can leave, let's just go."

"You don't understand, Dean, they've already…"

"What?" Dean said, feeling his blood turn to ice and his heart stop beating. He held his breath.

"In the hospital, the first shot of 'painkillers' sealed it. The other was…"

"Other, Sam? What other?"

"The second shot," Sam said. "It was part of the first ritual."

"Part of the first?" _No, no, part of the first? Does that mean he has already gone through one ritual already? NO! NO! PLEASE, NO. _

"The one that started in the bog, when he slit my throat, Dean. It started then." Sam said sadly. "Well, that's only half true. It started when the _each uisge_ stopped the car."

"And we didn't mention it because?" Dean snapped.

"I wanted to do a little more research before I told you."

"Great." Dean said, still leaning against Sam.

"I need to take the medicine, Dean."

"No."

"Once they gave me the first shot, Dean, there's a failsafe, a way they have always protected the ritual. I have to drink it to be part of the ritual."

"You can't be part of it, Sam, you'll die."

"But if I don't? That's where the failsafe comes into play, if I don't take all the doses I die anyway."

Dean looked at Sam, searching his eyes, looking for the truth and he found it. His world started shattering. It wasn't broken, not yet, but there were hairline cracks like a spider's web, touching the edges of his reality. "Sam…" _No, no, no, no._

"Agreeing to go along with it got me out of the hospital," Sam said with a faint grin. "It was going to happen one way or another and at least this way I could…" Sam paused. "I could research a little more and maybe we could figure a way out of this."

_And that is so not what you were going to say, Sam. Lying to me? Great. Just freaking great. This day just keeps getting better and better. Yep. Just freaking great. _"Good thinking. We'll figure a way out, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam swallowed. "I need to take the dose." Sam stood. Dean followed his brother in and sat on the edge of the bed. Sam opened the bottle. "She said half now, half at ten." He poured the liquid out into one of the plastic cups the motel provided. "At least it's not going directly into my veins," he said with a half-hearted smile. Sam tossed it back in one swallow.

"What happens now?" Dean said, watching for any change on his brother's face.

"I don't know," Sam said. "I felt a little better after the shower. I couldn't hear the bells anymore."

"Good reason to shower more often," Dean said, trying to grin.

"Yeah." Sam leaned his head back against the headboard. "Dean…"

"We'll figure this out, Sam, we will. I promise." He gently squeezed his brother's knee. "Maybe I'll even hit the books myself."

"It's a miracle," Sam said. He swallowed. "I…" His eyes closed.

"Is it starting?" Dean said softly.

"Yeah. It's funny of all the things I worried this first dose would do, I never thought it would do this."

"What?"

"Put me to sleep," Sam said, his voice thick.

"Sam?"

"It's strange. I…I can't fight it, Dean."

"It's ok, Sammy, sleep. I'll be here." Dean watched as Sam drifted away. He carefully shifted his brother down a little and put a pillow under his head. Dean grabbed the blanket from the other bed and pulled it over him. Sam was shivering a little, his skin ice cold to the touch.

After several minute Dean stood and dug Sam's laptop out of the case and flipped it open. _Ok, not the genius at research, but I can hold my own. Occasionally, with help. _Sam hadn't cleared his browsing history and Dean began digging through the pages Sam had been surfing. Most of the information Sam had already given him, albeit in very abbreviated form. _None of this really tells me all that much about the ritual. Nothing about how to get Sam out of it. Ok, now what? _He typed in the address for the online phone book and found a number. _I wonder if she still wants to remove my heart and feed it to wild dogs? _He dialed.

"Baxter Institute," the crisp female voice answered.

"Uh, can I speak to Dr. Donovan?" Dean said.

"May I ask who is calling?" the efficient voice said.

"Dean Winchester."

"One moment please."

Dean waited, listening to the classical music. _Trust her to have classical music. Nice touch. If anyone knows about this, she might. Assuming she'll even talk to me. She wouldn't hold a grudge for this long would she? _

"Dean," a female voice came on the line. The tone was a little sardonic.

"Hey," he said. _That didn't sound too unfriendly, at least not for her. _

"What can I do for you?"

"I need information."

"The classic Dean Winchester pickup line if I remember right," she said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you do," he felt a smile starting in spite of the situation.

"Well?"

"What do you know about the Winter King? Or the Lord of the Hunt?"

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Dean?" she asked. "Let's see." He heard her moving around, something clattered to the floor. A loud thump. "Ok, what do you need? Significance? Archaeological evidence of? No, you probably don't want that. Ritual?"

_Leave it to Dr. Dizzy Donovan to be able to just pull that stuff off of her shelves and out of her head. _"How about all of the above, everything, as much as you can give me."

"How bad is it?" she asked. He could hear a knowing sympathy in her voice.

"Bad. Give me everything you got," he said, grabbing a pen and paper so he could take notes. _Knowing her it's going to be an encyclopedia before she's done. _"Ok, shoot."

Half an hour later Dean had filled one of the small pads the motel provided with notes. "Are you sure? About the second ritual?" he asked when she finally slowed the lecture down.

"Well, as sure as I can be, as far as I know no one has witnessed these rituals for hundreds of years."

"Thanks," Dean said with a sigh. _Oh, yeah this keeps getting better and better. _"But you are pretty sure that you have it right, for what happens in the second ritual?"

"Since when has 'I'm sure' meant anything else? Huh? Five parts, Dean. The first drink from the cup, the ritual meal of grain, fruit, meat and mead; the second drink from the cup; the sacrifice and the final part of the ritual."

"What happens at the final part?"

"I can't tell you that. I am madly translating from the Latin but I don't think anyone witnessed it, even then. Not sure witnesses survive."

"What happens for the third ritual? The one on solstice?"

"Madly translating, here, even I can only go so fast through three sources. Give me till tomorrow. I'll call a friend at Oxford who knows more about this than I do."

"I doubt that," Dean said with a little laugh.

"You're just saying that because I'm an expert," she said, laughing back. "Be careful, Dean."

"I will."

"When you're done doing whatever you're doing, you should come visit. It's warm and sunny here."

"Always is in Hell," Dean said.

"You're just saying that because last time you were here it was 125 in the shade," she said. "I'll call you in the morning with what I've found out. Don't do something stupid."

"Who me?"

"Yeah, you. Talk to you later, Dean."

"Bye, Dizzy," he said as he flipped the phone closed. He scrubbed a hand across his face and absently rubbed one shoulder, trying to ease the pounding in his skull. _And all of this information just makes me feel that much better. Not. _Dean got up and wandered into the bathroom, running the water until it was ice cold and then splashing his face. He put his hand in his head for several long moments. A sound in the room made him turn off the water.

Sam was standing on the balcony, a raven was sitting on the rail. Dean moved cautiously through the room, trying to see what was happening. His slow movements became a mad dash when he noticed the blood running out of Sam's arm and down onto the railing. The bird was dipping his beak into the small pool of red that had collected on the railing. The raven was watching Dean's approach and flew at the last second. Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "Sam!" He pulled his brother back into the room and into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and pressing it down on the slash in his brother's forearm. "What did you do?"

Sam was looking at his arm with mild curiosity. "I heard the raven call my name," he said in a faraway voice.

"What?" Dean said, checking the wound, it was still bleeding, but wasn't as deep as he had feared.

"The raven called me," Sam said. "He wanted me to do something."

"Yeah, like cut your arm open, nice bird, Sam," Dean said, his trying to keep his voice a little light. _Which is getting increasingly hard. Nice, I leave you alone for a few minutes and you are talking to the birds and feeding them your blood. Nice. Ok, heart is not quite at the exploding point, but it is getting close. And we can't leave. _That had been one thing Dizzy was sure of, if they tried to leave it would be bad.

Sam was leaning against him. Dean held the towel on his brother's arm for another minute, then guided Sam back to the bed. Sam's eyes were unfocused and foggy. Dean put his brother's hand over the towel and then went to his bag for the first-aid kit. He quickly bandaged the cut, closing it carefully with butterflies. _I don't think it is deep enough to need stitches. _By the time he had finished he realized Sam was watching the procedure.

"You back?" Dean said.

"Back?" Sam said, confused. He looked at the bandage on his arm. "What happened? Did I fall?"

"What happened? Well apparently you decided to have a Dr. Doolittle moment and then fed the birds."

"What?"

"Never mind, Sam. You hungry? It's about dinner time," Dean said, standing. "We might as well go to the hotel restaurant, I'm sure they have your meal all planned out." _And one for me, too. I hope this doesn't kill you tonight, Sam. _

Sam nodded and they walked to the small restaurant. Dean watching Sam the whole way. His brother's steps were unsteady, wavering a little. A table was waiting for them, decorated with the golden branches, bright silver bells and evergreen boughs. Sam fingered the centerpiece.

"Mistletoe," he said.

"Is that what that is? I should have recognized it, I guess."

A sly grin spread on Sam's face. "I think you are usually more worried about who's standing under it than what it looks like, Dean."

"Yeah, probably," Dean said, watching the waitress approach. They hadn't ordered, but there was food on the plates. She put two crystal glasses of golden liquid on the table. Dean shrugged and picked up the glass and held it out to Sam. His brother smiled and they clinked glasses. Dean took a sip, the rich, sweet liquid burned a fiery trail down his body. "Mead? Good stuff, Sammy."

They ate mostly in silence. The waitress appeared and refilled their glasses on a regular basis. By the time the meal was over Dean was a little tipsy. _Of course, that's the plan. _He and Sam managed to get back to the room, Sam sinking onto the bed and Dean happily running a bath in the spa tub. _Might as well. Be nice and clean for when the fun starts. _He settled back in the tub with a sigh. When he got out an hour and a half later the knot at the back of his neck had relaxed fractionally. _Which is better than not at all, I guess. _

"I was just going to come get you," Sam said. "It's time for the second dose."

"I know," Dean said, sitting down beside his brother.

"Think it will put me to sleep?"

_No, Sam, I don't. I think…god, no, if she's right I know what's going to happen. I hope it doesn't kill you. _"We'll see, I guess."

Sam drank the rest of the bottle, not bothering to pour it into a glass. Dean watched for the first signs that it was affecting his brother. Slowly Sam's eyes turned away from him, shifting like the fog. "No," Sam said in an agonized breath. "No." He was off the bed and out the door before Dean got his feet on the floor.

He followed his brother down the stairs and through the walkway that ran along the edge of the ground floor. There was a pathway from the building to the wildlife refuge behind. Dean followed Sam out into the wet ground. The fog had rolled in again, the lights from the hotel breaking through a tiny bit. Dean could see, just at the edge of his vision, one of the gray horses. Sam had stopped and was staring at it. Dean walked to his brother.

"They promised," Sam said, the words forced out of him.

"It's ok, Sammy, it's part of the ritual," Dean said gently. _Now that it's here I am not as calm as I was a little while ago about this. What if she's wrong? _

"They promised, Dean." He turned haunted eyes to Dean. "They said…"

Dean smiled. "What did they say?"

Sam was starting to drift, Dean could see that, but his brother tried to focus on him. "They said the _each uisge_ wouldn't take you."

"They didn't lie about that, Sammy. I think when you agreed to go through with it, the older parts of the ritual could be met. The _each uisge_ didn't have to take me, because you agreed."

"I never agreed to this, Dean," Sam said desperately. "I didn't." Tears had formed in his eyes.

"It's ok, Sam," Dean said gently. He picked the silver knife up from the flat rock the ravens had been sitting on. He met his brother's eyes, very little of Sam was left behind them, he had drifted away, fog touching his eyes, shifting like the mist. Dean pulled his brother into a tight hug, then pressed the knife into his hands. "It's ok, Sam."

The knife was sharp, he barely noticed as the metal slid into him. He looked at Sam, tears were running down his brother's face. The part of Sam that was left whispered "I'm sorry." Over and over again. He pushed Dean down onto the rock, guiding him back until he was lying, looking up at the stars.

Sam bent over him, but Sam was gone, there was nothing of his brother in the eyes that met his. The gray horse approached as Sam pulled the knife out of Dean.

_There was something on that knife. _The idle thought formed as he started drifting on the fog. He was aware, still, of his brother, of the horse, but only just. He could hear the bells ringing and the soft chanting of a song from far away. Dean was aware of his blood slipping down his body, and the fact that Sam's hand was tracing a pattern in blood.

"I'm sorry," the whispered reached him in the cold fog.

"It's ok, Sammy," he said. His last vision was of Sam mounting the skeletal horse and riding away into the fog that slowly claimed him, pulling him away into icy darkness.

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. The Hunt, Horses and Brothers

_A/N: I backed this up a tiny bit to Sam's point of view for the second dose of the ritual drink, stabbing Dean and what comes after._

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Four**

**The Hunt, Horses and Brothers**

The fog had drifted in again. The soft call of frogs chirping through the mists was a happy noise in a gray and dark landscape. The wind had dropped, the whispering echo of its voice gone, replaced by a soft chanting and the ringing of bells, faraway, but there, under everything like a heartbeat in his veins.

Sam got off of the bed and walked to the balcony. It was cold, very cold, the damp bringing the cold in a little closer. He looked down at the red stain on the railing. _Did I do that? Dean said I did, and I think I remember the raven. It called me, it said "Sam, I need you to help me, and I will help you." It wanted something from me. _A brief flash, obscure, but there, of a knife, his own hand slicing his arm open. Sam blinked, trying to focus on the memory, it drifted away like the fog. It was almost as if he were watching it happen through someone else's eyes. He sighed, frowning a little. _It doesn't feel like possession, it feels different, something more complete, maybe?__Dean seems a little too calm about all this, eating the meal with me, and why was he eating the same thing? Does that have a meaning? Have I missed something? _His heart started pounding a little, a brief flare of pain running through his body alerted him. He understood the meaning of the symptoms immediately. _Time for more of the drink._

He pushed himself off the railing and walked into the room, dropping back down on the bed. _Should I get Dean? _The door to the bathroom opened, steam billowing out around his brother, the warm mist blending with the cold fog coming in from the balcony. "I was just going to come get you," Sam said. "It's time for the second dose."

"I know," Dean said, sitting down beside him.

"Think it will put me to sleep?" _I don't, Dean, but hearing you say it might make it a little better._

Dean tried to smile, Sam saw through the attempt, but he tried."We'll see, I guess."

Sam opened the bottle, sniffing the bittersweet liquid before drinking it. As it slid down his throat it traced a fiery path, pulling bits of his body along with it. He leaned his head back as the warmth moved on through him. _It's odd, you wouldn't think something taken orally would hit me so fast. _Because it had, the soft chanting was growing louder, the bells calling him. He turned his eyes away from Dean looking towards the window, listening to what was there, what the drink brought him._Soon, _part of him whispered. Sam felt slight joy bubbling in his veins with that thought. _No, no. _Sam thought. _Yes, soon. _Another voice, his voice, but not his, whispered with rapture. The night was moving on, the ritual needed to begin.

The vision of what was to happen uncoiled in his mind, a poisonous snake bearing joyous tidings. The picture of the knife waiting for him, the stone altar outside the room, the place of the raven, waiting.

Waiting for his brother's blood.

"No," Sam said anguish filling his heart, the bells pulling him away from the agony of the vision. He drove his fingernails into his palm, pain bringing him back. Sam cast a wild glance and Dean and ran—from what was coming, from what he would do.

He heard Dean behind him as he tried to run away, his steps headed away from the refuge, from the stone altar, but his body refused to go, it followed the sound of the voices and the soft whisper of a raven's laugh, out into the wet ground. Sam stopped and looked up, at the edge of the sacred area the_each uisge _was waiting to take him to the other place, the place where it could begin. _Soon, very soon. The blood will begin it. Let it begin. _Joy and fear fought for equal purchase.

Dean walked up to stand beside him, to stand in front of the raven's stone, the altar that would catch his blood. _Yes. _"They promised," Sam said, meeting Dean's eyes. _They promised me, Dean._

"It's ok, Sammy, it's part of the ritual," Dean said gently.

_What? How do you know that? I never found that information. How can you know? HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALM! My god, Dean, do you know what…_"They promised, Dean. They said…"

Dean smiled at him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze to pull him back for a moment. "What did they say?"

The bells were chiming. He could hear the horses gathering. _They are waiting. _The chanting was growing louder, a longing was beginning. A longing so deep, so profound, he felt it as a physical sensation. Pain mingled with exhilaration, knowing what would come. _Soon. _He was starting to lose focus, the world was falling away. Sam tried to focus on his brother. "They said the _each uisge_ wouldn't take you." He knew the truth of it as he said it, the _each uisge _was there for him. The knife on the altar was for Dean.

"They didn't lie about that, Sammy. I think when you agreed to go through with it, the older parts of the ritual could be met. The _each uisge_ didn't have to take me, because you agreed."

"I never agreed to this, Dean." _No, Dean, no. You have to believe me. If I had known this was coming, I would have fought them, I would have…I would have done anything, anything to stop it and now it is too late. Oh, god, Dean, I am so sorry. I never agreed to this._ "I didn't." Tears had formed in his eyes, he could feel them, hot against the cold flesh of his face. _Time, it is time to begin. _The longing, the joy, the pain, filled him. Sam was nearly gone, the chanting of voices, the soft sound of the horses waiting for him pulling him away.

"It's ok, Sam," Dean said gently. He picked the silver knife from the altar and looked at it with an odd smile on his face. Suddenly, Dean pulled Sam against him in a tight hug, holding him for a moment. It felt like goodbye. He pressed the knife into Sam's hand with a gentle pressure. "It's ok, Sam."

_It is good, it is right, it is joy._His hands moved of their own accord, the ritual movements known to him. Part of him watched in horror, in utter terror and defeat, as his hands shoved the blade into his brother. The other half was singing, the ancient words forming in his mind as he began. He heard his voice whispering, "I'm sorry." It was another chant, a counterpoint to the soft song in his head.

He reached out, pushing Dean down onto the rock, positioning him on the altar. His brother's eyes were glazing over, staring at the sky. _It is good, it is taking him already. We will be strong. _The joy nearly caused him to cry out. The _each uisge _had come to watch the final moments. Sam pulled the blade from his brother, watching the blood as it welled up before dipping his finger in the blood, tracing the patterns again. _It has been too long since we had this, too long since the ritual was met like this. _The song was getting louder, he looked down at Dean's emptying eyes. "I'm sorry," something said, it sounded like his voice.

"It's ok, Sammy," Dean said.

The _each uisge _nudged Sam gently. He turned and smiled at it, running a hand along its soft gray flesh, the cold touching him. He swung himself up on the horse with the ease of millennia of practice. It moved away from the raven's altar, walking into the fog, into the night. He turned one last time, the man, _my brother,_ was lying on the altar, empty eyes staring at the sky.

The trail wound through the trees. He could hear the movements of the night creatures there beyond where they walked. The small things of the forest moved from the _each uisge,_ but other things, those beings that walked in the ever-dark, joined them, moving behind them, coming to the ritual to be there as it began.

_Did I kill Dean? Oh, god, I think I might have. The knife, did it go into his heart? I don't know. I knew, I know, what to do, did I kill my brother?_ The voice was whispering in his head, it sounded familiar, like it was part of him, but it was also not—it was a voice of what was, not what would be._The ritual is good, it is right. _The joy and the longing welled up, silencing that other voice as the anticipation began to build.

They passed by the blood-red bog, the few fruits left on the plants withered to black, the details clear to him as they moved on, the night no longer a dampening dark, but something seen and understood. The road turned towards the place of the ritual. His heart was beating wildly, the joy pounding through him as they approached. _Yes, welcome, _the chanting voices said.

The clearing was before him, the altar already waiting with its gift, left by the _each uisge _before it came for him at the raven's altar. Sam slid off the horse and stood beside the stone, a smile on his face. _It is good. _He turned to face them, the riders and the others, waiting for him. One came forward a bright smile on her face.

"Welcome," she said, gently. She took his hand in hers, running her fingers through the blood on his palms.

"Yes," he said, knowing the answer to the question before it was asked. "The ritual has been met."

She smiled at him again, then turned to the others, holding his bloody hand up for all to see. A cry resounded through the clearing, the note echoing back from the water to swirl around them like dancers.

The lead rider approached leading a black horse behind his huge mount. "Ride with us, brother, before the final joy of the night," he said, the words foreign to Sam's ears, filling his mind with meaning.

His heart pounded. "Yes, please," he said, swinging up onto the horse. The others gathered around him, skeletal hands patting him on his back as they chanted welcome in the ancient tongue, the words beautiful as the song rose around him.

"We ride together tonight," the rider said, his face shifting, young to old and back again.

"Together, brother," Sam said._Brother? Dean? Are you dead? _The voice whispered in his head the words forming, but taking a moment before coalescing into words that held meaning. Then they were gone again as the hunting cry was ripped from a dozen throats, his own voice joining in as the howling of the hounds blended with the voices in rapturous welcome.

They moved out, the dark horses coasting through the night like the fog, the dark things flitting with them. Sam's heart was beating wildly, the longing to ride with his brothers filling every fiber of his being, his mind chanting the war cry as easily as if he has always known it. _We are together this night. _The dogs ran ahead, baying, chasing the small creatures that moved from the hunt. _It is as it should be. _The laughter of his brothers filled the air, his own voice joining them with glee. Bright eyes on fleshless skulls turned to smile at him as they rode. _It is good. _Hands touched him, a pat, a slap, a welcome.

Finally the longing was too much, the other longing, that deep and profound pain. He smiled at them. "My brothers, it is time to return to the ritual place, it is time to finish this night's joy." They shouted around him, the ancient song beginning, the words of triumph floating on the air as they galloped back, the cold wind streaming over his face, blowing through his hair as his heart shouted in joyous freedom and he sang with them, his bright laughter ringing out loudly in the silent night.

The fire was already burning when they arrived. _Good, it is time. _He pulled the horse up and slid off, running a grateful hand over blackened flesh and naked bone. "Thank you," he whispered to it. The horse gently nuzzled his ear. "Tomorrow we will ride again." It threw its head back in happy affirmative. He patted the nose one last time before turning to the lead rider, the king.

"It is time," his king said.

"Yes," he said looking into ancient eyes. The two gray _each uisge _walked to stand on either side of him. The woman came forward with a silver chalice and held it to his lips. He drank, the sweetness of the liquid filling his mind with velvet. Holding out his hands he turned and walked into the icy water of the pond, the _each uisge _moving with him until he was chest deep. They took his wrists into their mouths and pulled him under, the pain of the bite mingling with the agony in his chest as his lungs fought for air. They held him there until darkness danced before his eyes, until he was fighting to keep his breath, until the desire to draw air into his lungs was nearly overwhelming, and then they pulled him up and out of the water.

As he emerged, the chanting began again. His king and the woman were waiting for him. She guided Sam down to the large stone by the fire. It had been hidden when he and his brother—_brother? My brother? Dean?—_had been there the first night. He smiled as the warmth from the fire touched him, the fog shifting around them. The soft chiming of bells began as those waiting began to dance, skeletal riders with humans, dancing together in the dark night as the fire burned.

He could hear his voice chanting soft words as he lay there. The woman came and held a silver bowl, the ancient metal nearly worn through in places. The king smiled at her, then down at Sam. _Yes, it is time, it is good. _

"My brother, myself, we begin," the king said.

"My brother, myself, we begin," Sam repeated the ritual words. He felt the first kiss of the knife, gently tracing the pattern on his chest. _Yes, it is good. _The woman stepped forward and handed the bowl to the king. He reached a fleshless, yet fleshed, hand into the bowl and smeared the paste onto the pattern on Sam's chest, the fragrant unguent sparking memories of rituals past. They laid a wreath of the sacred bough on his chest and the singing got louder.

"My brother, myself, soon, soon the night comes, soon you will end, so my brother, myself, you can begin," his king said softly.

"My brother, myself, I welcome the night when it comes, I wait for it to begin," he answered.

"The king will soon be dead," his king said loudly into the night, his voice carrying over the chanting over the ecstatic ringing of bells.

"Long live the king," Sam's voice rang out. He let his head drop back down onto the ground, his king bent over him. "Let the night come, my brother, myself," he begged.

"Soon, you must wait, only the first touch of night under these stars," his king said softly, the ritual playing out gently between the two of them, the words, remembered, ancient, flowing around them like the black water of a flood, caught in a deep pool.

"My brother, myself, let it begin," he begged again.

The king placed a hand on his head, the touch agony, burning into his brain, a violation, welcome and terrifying. "My brother, myself, it is begun," his king said.

The dancers increased their pace, swirling around them like the sparks from the flames, the horses were grunting softly in the night and the dark things were there, joyous, at the edge of the trees. The sounds filled him before the first touch of the night claimed him and he was pulled away. "It has begun," he heard himself chant as the world slid away.

Pain, an eternity later, returned first.

Burning his chest, his throat, his head, his hands.

Then cold.

Filling his body, seeping up from the ground under him and from the icy mist surrounding him.

The light came next.

Against his eyelids, the brightness burning his eyes. He tried to put a hand over them to stop the burning light.

Smell awakened.

The remnants of a smoldering fire, the sweet unguent on his chest, blood, something acrid and vile.

Memory, last of all.

The riders, the king, the ritual. _My brothers, my king. _

He paused, a groan of pain pulled from him as his memory shifted. _Dean! I think I killed him. No. Please no. _Sam tried to move again, his body refused to answer his commands. _Dean? _Hot tears ran out of his eyes. _I tried to save you. No, Dean, no. I never agreed to that. _He tried to move again, the despair holding him in place, anchoring him in a well of icy fear.

Sam could hear someone coming. He braced himself, wondering what would happen. _It is good, the ritual will be met. _A voice whispered in his head, the words in the ancient language, but known nonetheless. The voice brought the fog and the ringing of the bells.

Someone dropped down beside him, a hand, warm, rough, shaking, was placed against his throat. "Sammy?" Dean said, anguish in his voice.

He opened his eyes and met the panicked look of his brother. "Dean?" _You're ok? I thought I killed you, I thought…You're alive. _"Dean?" he said again, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. "You're alive?" Dean had a mark on his face that looked like a burn—except it was shaped almost like a hand.

Dean let out a breath, his shoulders sagging a little before he smirked. "Yep, still here. Let's get you back to the room and then maybe get some breakfast," Dean said as he pulled Sam to his feet.

Sam leaned against his brother, feeling the warmth of Dean's shoulder through his shirt. Reality was shifting, the fog still there, the voices gently singing to him. He tried to push them away. "Breakfast?" The voice sounded like his. "That sounds good."

**XXX**

Awareness crept back, slowly, like the morning fog, swirling around Dean, not quite fully there, but moving in. The night was full of sounds, soft rustling all around him, the creatures hidden in the fog that had swallowed Sam. The stars were gone, the mists had closed in, darkness had the upper hand.

_My eyes feel weird._He blinked. _Oh, ok, they were open. _He blinked again, trying to focus on the sky above him, there was nothing to look at, the world was blanketed in fog. _What happened? _His mind cast lazily through visions, the fog moving in, a gray horse carrying his brother away, the strange floating sensation and the sound of bells. The touch of the knife. _Oh, yeah, this keeps getting better. Sammy? You need to be ok, hear me? _Dean tried to push himself up, on the third try he managed to lever himself into a sitting position. His head was pounding.

He stood up and waited as the world moved, he swayed, putting a hand down on the rock. _Hey, blood, I bet it's mine, yep, just keeps getting better. _A wave of dizziness hit him hard enough to rock his stomach. _If I get sick on the altar will it piss them off? Would that be good or bad? Probably bad. _He managed to turn away from the stone before his food reappeared.

_I have to find Sam, where would he be? _Dean walked slowly towards the Impala. Emptying his stomach had helped, but only a little. He stood by the door of the car looking down at the lock. _Keys? Oh, in my coat, in the room, up the damn stairs. Great. Next time I'll remember to grab them before I chase Sam out into the cold before he stabs me. Even better? I think I will just avoid the next time on this one. Sam? You had better be ok._

After retrieving the keys from their room, Dean headed out of the parking lot, the soft rumble of the engine comforting in the foggy stillness. He glanced at his watch. _It'll start getting light soon. _He was creeping down the road, visibility gone, the hood of the car mostly hidden in the swirling mists. _Better and better, oh yeah. Those bells are really getting on my nerves. _The soft chiming hadn't ceased, the sound was quiet, but still there. _How long does that last I wonder? _

Dean realized he could see a little into the night, small dark eyes were peering at him from the edge of the road. _Creepy. What are those things? _Suddenly the eyes vanished, Dean sensed their fear. _Oh, yeah, creepy and fun._ He stopped the car and rolled down the window, eyes and ears straining to catch what had frightened the eyes away. Not able to hear well enough he stepped out of the car.

Then he heard them, horses and the baying dogs. They were moving fast, coming towards him. _There must be a field over there. _The sound was coming from his right, the pounding hooves getting close. The fog shifted as the horses plunged into view, a dozen, maybe more, mostly gray fleshless horses with riders on their backs. They moved apart as two huge black horses came up with them. One of the riders on the black horses was the man who had slit Sam's throat, Vivian's son—the other was…

_Oh, god, no. _

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice loud in the silent night. Blank eyes turned to look at him, one of the horses approached, its bulk pressing him against the car. The man said something, the words were meaningless, but still Dean heard them in his mind. "Look away from our once and future king."

Dean glanced up at Sam again and the rider slapped him hard, the blow tracing burning agony across his face. "Sam?" he said, looking at his brother, there was nothing of Sam in the eyes that looked down at him from the huge black horse. _No. _He braced himself for the blow that was coming, felt it connect with his head, and his skull slammed against the car door. Dean let himself slide down the car and stayed still, leaning against the cold metal of the Impala. After a minute the riders moved off, he could hear Sam's voice raised in song, the words flowing easily off of his brother's tongue as if he had always spoken the language. Sam's laughter chilled him. He felt tears prick at the edge of his eyes. _No, no, no. Sam, please, no._

He pushed himself up and looked at his reflection in the rear window. There was a mark that looked like a burn on the side of his face. _Fun freaking times. I have to get to Sam, I have to stop this. What's that? _He could hear chanting clearly. _And not in my mind, with my ears. _The chiming of bells was almost gone, replaced by the whisper of wind in the trees. The watching eyes were still gone.

Dean wrenched open the door of the Impala and dropped into the seat, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. _Sammy, oh, god. What do I do? How do I stop this? Oh, please, can I stop this? _He swallowed, trying to push the growing panic away. The spider-web cracks in his world were slowly widening, shattering at a snail's pace. _This isn't getting me anywhere. _He sat up and put the car in drive, creeping along the road again, looking for the turn onto Winthrop Road.

He tried to speed up, watching the fog line, but visibility was such that he could barely make it out at more than twenty miles an hour. Dean slowed down again, creeping along the dark road, half hoping to see the horses again, half dreading that moment. _I have to stop this, I have to before it's too late for Sam. _The memory of Vivian's son in the richly decorated room came unbidden to his mind, he nearly wrecked the car when Sam's face replaced that of her son. _NO! No, I won't let it happen. _He wrenched the car back onto the road.

In spite of the panic slowly coiling itself around him, it took nearly an hour to find the turn onto the road. When he finally found the turn, relief flooded through him briefly, replaced by an icy fear. _What happened tonight? What will I find when I get there?_ He stopped the car at the end of the road. Opening the door, he got out, then reached back in the car, digging in the glove box for his .45. _I don't know what I'll shoot, but I feel like shooting something, anything at this point. _He shoved the gun in his waistband.

As he walked down the path to the bog, a realization suddenly struck him. It was silent. The bells were gone, as was the chanting. Nothing was moving in the slowly lightening mists. The small sounds of morning were even missing until the harsh laughter of a raven caught him and held him motionless for a second. Shaking his head, he moved on, the fog was thinning as he reached the clearing by the pond. He ran desperate eyes over the small area, finally coming to rest on the motionless figure lying beside the remains of a fire. _Oh, god, Sammy. _

Dean ran, dropping onto his knees beside his brother. _Oh, god, oh, no. Sam. _He reached a trembling hand out to check for signs of life. _Please, please. He feels so cold. _A tiny pulse beat against his waiting fingers. "Sammy?" he said, hearing harsh emotion in his voice. _I might be a little freaked. Or maybe a lot freaked._

"Dean?" Sam said, his voice a hoarse whisper. His brother opened his eyes, focusing on him a little. Dean could still see the shifting fog behind Sam's eyes. "Dean? You're alive?"

_You're alive and with me, Sam. _He let out the breath he'd been holding as he frantically waited for that first heartbeat."Yep, still here. Let's get you back to the room and then maybe get some breakfast," Dean said as he pulled Sam to his feet. _Not that I really feel like eating, but I bet they have something extra special planned for today. _

Sam leaned against him. Dean could feel the cold seeping into his shoulder. His brother was trembling, stumbling as he tried to walk. "Breakfast?" Sam said, his voice still hoarse, but losing the distant quality. "That sounds good."

Dean guided them back to the car. The sun was beginning to break through the clouds, bathing the mist with golden light. The laughter of the raven was joined by a chorus of crows. He could just make out their dark shapes in the trees above him, watching their slow progress back to the Impala. _I hope this doesn't turn out to be a Hitchcock moment._He kept his eye on the birds as they walked. _The fact that they are following us from tree to tree is beginning to bother me a little._

When they reached the car, he gently lowered Sam into the seat. "We'll be back at the room soon, Sam," he said, closing the door.

"Good," his brother said, looking over at him as he got behind the wheel. "I could use a shower, I think."

The fog was still there in Sam's eyes. _Oh god, I'm losing him, I have to stop this, I have to. _Dean snorted. "You just think you need a shower? Dude, please."

Sam smiled. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Dean said as he pulled the car onto the highway, heading back to the motel. The fog had thinned enough for him to cruise back as a decent speed, what had been an hour-long trip the night before reduced to a few minutes. As he pulled into the lot, he noticed the curtain in the office drop closed. _Someone was waiting for us to get back. _He parked the car and helped Sam up, his brother frowning at him, but accepting the hand he offered. _It's ok, Sam. _Dean kept a hand on Sam's back as his brother walked slowly up the stairs to their room.

_What the hell? _A room service table stood in front of their door, the top covered with silver dishes. _Well, we don't have to go out to breakfast at least. Why don't I find that comforting? _"Looks like breakfast is ready," Dean said as he opened the door.

"Not sure I find that very comforting, Dean," Sam said, pushing himself off the wall where he had leaned while Dean opened the door. "Someone must have been watching for us to get back."

"Yeah, nice," Dean said, maneuvering the food into the room and pushing the tray over to the table by the windows. He put the dishes on the table, along with a coffeepot and the other items. One covered plate had a sprig of mistletoe on it. Dean started to pull the cover off.

"That's mine," Sam said, his hand grabbing Dean's wrist in a tight, painful grip, keeping him from touching the dish.

Dean turned to look at Sam. His brother was gone from the eyes that looked back with anger. "Sam?"

Sam blinked. "Sorry," he said, letting go of Dean's arm. "I…sorry."

"It's ok, Sam." Dean plopped down in one of the chairs and grabbed the coffeepot. He sniffed it. "Not coffee," he said, looking up at Sam. He poured the brown-gold liquid out into their cups. _I guess I'm supposed to drink it, too. _

The meal was silent. Dean kept looking at his brother. Sam met the look once or twice. More than once Dean caught his brother looking out the window, the fog shifting in his eyes, seeing something that wasn't there.

"Dean?" Sam said suddenly after a silent hour.

"Yeah?"

"I…" He paused, looking out the window and then back at Dean. "That burn on your face? What happened?"

_One of your horse-riding buddies slapped me. _"I fell."

"Into something that left a hand-shaped burn mark on your…" Sam's eyes unfocused, Dean watched horror blossom in them as Sam suddenly stood. "Oh my god," he whispered, looking at Dean.

"Sam? What?"

"I remember." Sam reached a hand out and moved Dean's jacket aside, revealing the dried blood on his shirt. "Oh, god, Dean, I stabbed you last night."

"Sammy…"

"I did, didn't I?" His hands were shaking as he looked at Dean, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, Sam, it was part of the ritual."

"I could have killed you," Sam said, tugging at his shirt.

"Dude, what are you doing?" He tried to push Sam's hands away.

"Let me take care of it for you. It might need cleaning, you don't know what was on that knife."

_I have a pretty good idea. Moss, mud, raven spit and something that made me not blink for hours. Do ravens spit? _"Sam…"

"No, Dean," Sam said. He gave up trying to pull the shirt off and walked over to his bag and pulled out the first-aid kit. "Bathroom?"

"You just aren't going to leave this alone, are you Sammy?" Dean grumbled as he got up, stripping off his jacket and shirt as he walked to the bathroom._He remembered stabbing me. What else does he remember? _He sat down on the toilet as Sam gently prodded the wound.

"This might need stitches, Dean," Sam said, a haunted look in his eyes as he cleaned the dried blood away.

_So someone can slice them open tonight? Nah, don't think so. _"Just bandage it, I'm sure it's fine." He looked at his brother. Sam's hands we shaking and the tears were still there at the edges of his eyes. When Sam reached over to swab the wound with alcohol, Dean grabbed his wrist. "Sam?" His brother ignored him, looking down at the wound. "Sammy?" he said, a little louder. Sam finally looked up and met his eyes. "It's ok."

"No, it's not," Sam whispered. "I could have killed you."

"You weren't meant to, Sam."

"How can you know that, Dean?"

"You aren't the only one who can do research, you know," Dean said as Sam put a bandage over the wound.

Sam raised his eyebrows with a little smirk on his. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He grinned at his brother as he stood. "Nice work, Sammy."

"Is that your phone?"

"Yep." Dean walked back into the main room and grabbed his phone off the table, glancing at the number on the caller ID. _Arizona, might be Dizzy getting back to me. _"Yeah?" he said, answering the phone.

"Dean, still in one piece?" Dizzy said with a laugh in her voice.

"Mostly."

"I have a bit more information for you. I don't know how much it will help, but I have been head down in this stuff for about twelve hours."

"Thanks. What did you find out?"

"That there isn't a lot of information, reliable at least, about this sort of thing. Do you know how many books, only available in Latin, I have been through for you?"

"Guilt doesn't work on me," he said, smiling at her tone.

"Yeah, just have to stay in practice," Dizzy said. "Ok, ready?"

"Sure." _Not really. Can't you just say we can run away and it will all be better?_

She took a deep breath and started talking. Sam wandered out into the room and met his eyes. He smiled a little and Sam dropped onto one of the beds. _My brain is melting. I think it is melting. _The idle thought ran through his head as Dizzy launched into another round of information. _None of this is making me feel better. Wait, what did she just say? Could that be true? I wonder if she's right, can I get Sam out of this tonight? _

"I'll keep looking, Dean" she finally said after forty-five minutes.

"Thanks," he said as he flipped the phone closed.

"Yeah, you know how to do research," Sam said with a grin. "Call someone and have them do it for you."

Dean shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?" As he watched his brother Sam frowned and swallowed. "What?" _Oh, god, it's time for another dose. _

"I think I need to take the next dose," Sam said, reaching for the bottle on the nightstand. He poured half the bottle out into the glass and looked at Dean. He tried to smile and then gulped the liquid down, grimacing a little as he did. Sam set the glass down and leaned back against the headboard. "Fast," he said as his eyelids fluttered a little, then closed over eyes already shifting with the fog. He started humming softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

_This is so not good._Dean turned on the TV to drown out the sound of the song. He flipped relentlessly through the channels. _Why is there nothing on when I need it and when I don't have time something great is on? The universe hates me. _He gave up and wandered out onto the balcony, still listening to the TV and his brother's humming.

"Go away," he said to the raven sitting on the roof above their room. The bird looked at him with dark eyes and gave its harsh croak, laughing at Dean. "Yeah, well I don't want to hear it." _And talking to the birds, nice. Worse that its making fun of me. _

Sam's voice came from below him, speaking words that were unintelligible. Dean looked down, his brother was walking to the flat stone by the pond. _How did he get down there fast? I didn't even hear him go. _Sam looked up at the raven and spoke again, the words tripping easily off his tongue. The raven cocked its head. _I swear it just smiled. What the hell, is that damn bird smiling? _The bird opened its wings and gave a happy cry. Sam spoke and the bird fluttered gently down towards his brother. Sam leaned against the stone as the bird approached him. It dropped onto the stone and hopped towards Sam with little skipping steps. Sam smiled. Dean saw the flash of something metal in his brother's hand. _I have a funny feeling this is going to be bad. _Dean was moving, out the door and down the stairs before the thought was fully formed.

He took the stairs in large bounds, trying to get to the bottom as fast as possible. Running along the corridor he heard the raven's voice and then Sam's answering it. _Not good, not good, not good. _Dean tore around the corner towards the refuge, Sam was kneeling before the stone, blood covering the rock, the raven standing before him. Another raven landed on the stone. Sam reached out bloody hands to touch each bird gently, a gesture of affection and reverence before lifting his head a little exposing his throat.

Dean ran faster, trying to get there before…

The ravens pulled flesh from his brother's neck, near the slash from the curved knife. Each had a tiny piece held in their beaks like a trophy. Sam smiled at the birds again, running his hands down each sleek black body. He said something to them. The birds touched his face gently with their bloody beaks before stretching their wings and fluttering into the sky like silken paper.

Dean reached Sam as his brother pitched forward onto the rock. He managed to grab him before he hit his head on the stone. "SAM!" He pulled his brother up, trying to get a good look at him. Sam's eyes were closed, a happy smile on his face. _No. _

A soft rustling noise drew Dean's eyes away from his brother, from the blood marring the stone. The _each uisge _was standing under one of the strange stunted trees. Is gray flesh transparent in the soft winter sun, the bone standing out in clear relief against the black background of the trees.

Sam groaned. "Dean?" he said, the words thick.

"It's ok, Sam, I've got you."

_It's not ok, not at all. I have to get him out of this, god, please, I have to get him out of this. _

The _each uisge_ drifted a little closer, its head up, tasting the air.

_I have to get him out of this. I have to. _

Sam groaned again, pain soaking the sound.

"It's ok, Sammy."

_I have to. No other option. I have to. _

_Please._

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. The Once and Future King

_A/N: Thank you everyone who is sticking with me through my little weird story. I know it has gotten a little odd, and frankly it might get a little odder, but I promise it will be resolved soon! I appreciate all your reviews immensely and for those of you who have decided this is a little too very weird, I will be back with a lovely new story very soon! Oh and a gentle reminder—I don't write death fic!_

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Five**

**The Once and Future King**

The winter sun lit the land around Dean, reflecting off the pond and casting bright golden sparks of light into the pool of blood puddled on the stone in front of him. The _each uisge _had stopped several yards from them, the dead scent of the thing eddying around him like the mists that swallowed everything in the night. Dean was watching it. _And it is watching me, or rather us. I think it's waiting for something._

Sam groaned. Dean looked down, even though his brother sounded like he was in pain there was a happy smile on his face. He spoke, the words unintelligible, the language unknown, but still Dean understood. _And how fun is that? _"They are waiting," Sam said with a happy sigh. "Soon, soon it can begin." He laughed, a bright happy note mingling with the soft calls of birds in the trees.

"Sam?" Dean said, half surprised when his words came out in English. Dean shook his brother a little. Sam's eyes opened, fog shifting behind them, but he saw them focus on him.

"Dean?" Sam blinked, his eyes closed for a moment, then he opened them again. "What happened?" He struggled to sit up, allowing Dean to give him a hand. Sam braced his back against the flat stone. "Why am I out here?"

"You decided to have another 'feed the birds' moment, Sammy," Dean said, gently prodding the wound on Sam's neck. "We need to get this cleaned up and your arm re-bandaged."

"Feed the birds? What do you mean?" Sam's eyes unfocused for a minute. "Something with the ravens?"

"Yeah. And Sam, about that? Gross." Dean yanked Sam to his feet, pulling his brother's arm over his shoulders to help him back to the room. He pulled Sam into the bathroom and set him down on the closed toilet. "Don't go talking to any birds for a minute," Dean said, walking into the room and digging in the first-aid kit for bandages, alcohol and antibiotic cream. He stopped for a minute, putting his head in his hands. _Oh, god, Sammy. How am I going to get you out of this? _Dean sighed, straightened and went back into the bathroom. Sam had his head against the wall, eyes closed, the smile back on his face. _No, I'm losing him already. _"Sammy?"

Sam's eyes opened, the mists still there, but he managed to pull himself back, Dean saw the change in his brother's eyes. "Yeah?" Sam said, his voice sounded a little weary.

"Let's get that fixed, okay?" Dean carefully cleaned the cut on Sam's neck and the two tiny points where flesh had been nipped away by sharp beaks. _What the hell is with the damn birds? That's just freaking weird. And I will say it again. Gross, just plain gross. _He bandaged the wound and then turned to the slash on Sam's arm, cleaning it and putting a clean bandage over it as well. "All done, Sam, how do you feel?"

"A little better," Sam said, his voice sounding more like Sam. He stood and wandered into the room. Dean followed closely behind. _You are not going out that door again, Sam. _Sam sank down on the bed. "Why are we here again, Dean?" He looked at Dean with a wan smile.

"Twelve dead before solstice, all that's left are the livers?"

"And the thirteenth in a coma at the hospital until they die at the exact moment of the solstice." Sam looked out the window. "Ten twenty-seven."

"What?"

"The exact moment of solstice, Dean. Ten twenty-seven." Sam met his eyes, a bleak look covered by the shifting fog. "Tonight."

"I'm figuring it out, Sam. There might be a way to get you out of it, to stop the ritual. We just need to…"

"Assuming I even want to stop the ritual?"

The statement brought Dean up sharply. "What?" _What the hell, Sam? _

"When it starts, Dean, it's like I am two people at first. Me and the other, the one who is…I remember bits of last night, stabbing you. I remember…" He closed his eyes. "The woman, the nurse, from the hospital was there, the one who gave me the shot."

"Really?" _The one who dies when I get my hands on her?_

"Yeah, she is important." Sam sighed. "But Dean, I also remember the joy, the need, the longing for the ritual to go on. I wanted it so badly. God, Dean, I still do. I can hear them, even now, singing for me, waiting. My mount is waiting, we will ride tonight, together with my brothers." Sam started humming.

"SAM!" Dean grabbed his brother and shook him hard, and kept shaking him until the fog lifted in Sam's eyes and he focused back on Dean.

"Dean?"

"Stay with me, Sammy."

"I'm trying, Dean. I really am, it's just…" He drifted again, his eyes closing, humming softly. _That's enough of that, Sam. _Before Dean thought about it, before he could stop it, his hand had slapped his brother's face. Sam's eyes snapped back to irritated awareness. "Dean?" he said annoyed, the tone a little hurt.

"You were humming off-key, you know I hate that, Sammy."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam said, playing along with the game. "Sun's starting to set."

Dean glanced out the balcony doors. The fog was rolling in, the sun turning the mists into swirling blood. _Better and better. _Sam stood and wandered out onto the balcony. Dean followed, not sure of what would come once his brother got outside. Sam was standing with his head cocked, listening to something Dean couldn't hear. He leaned on the balcony rail beside his brother, letting his shoulder come into contact with Sam. It didn't go unnoticed. Sam leaned against him a little, his eyes focused on the _each uisge _still standing at the edge of the trees.

"I have to take the final dose soon," Sam said softly.

"What? I thought you didn't have to take it until later," Dean said, his heart pounding. His hands were shaking again, a minute tremble, but there nonetheless.

"That's what she said, I know. But I also know when I have to take it, and it's soon, very soon." He sighed, resting a little more against Dean. "How can we stop it?"

"When you get to the final moment of the ritual, just wait. Don't do the final bit."

"What's the final bit?"

"When the king dies, I'm not sure, she wasn't sure. No one who has witnessed the ritual has been clear about it, I guess. Can you do that?"

"Can't you?" There was a desperate note in Sam's voice. Fear overlaid with something else.

"I'll try, but I don't think they'll let me get that close."

"If you're even there," Sam said.

"I'll be there, Sam." And he knew that now, as surely as Sam knew what was happening. The bells had started chiming again, the sound still far off, but Dean could hear it. Sam's humming was beginning to take on meaning in his head and he could hear the pounding of hooves as the hunt waited for the final ritual, as they rode, unseen, through the fields, waiting.

"You're sure?" Sam looked at him, listening to that other voice as well. "Yes, it is right, it is good, you will be there as it once was." Dean understood the last part, even though Sam had spoken the other language, the words falling into air like droplets of blood. The _each uisge _tossed its head and gave an odd cry. Dean shivered as the sound touched him, chilling him. It felt like his bones resonated with the sound. _This is just freaking great. _

A knock on the door pulled his attention away. He walked through the room, grabbing his .45 on the way. Cautiously easing the door open, he looked out. Another room service tray stood outside the door. _Great, final meal, right? _He pulled the tray into the room. The dishes were golden. _Oh, that can't be good. _Sam came in as he rolled the tray over to the table. There were covered plates, a bottle of the golden mead and a flask made of gold. _Creepy, just freaking creepy. But, hey, creepy food is fun._

"Time to eat," Sam sat at the table and waited as Dean served him. Even a he did so, Dean wondered at his actions. _Not your servant, Sammy, don't get used to it. _When he had served Sam, he sat down opposite of his brother and poured the mead into the goblets. They toasted each other and drank, the meal passed in silence. Sam was watching the window, Dean was watching Sam. _Trying to ignore those damn annoying bells. _

When the meal was ended, Sam picked up the gold flask and poured the liquid into the goblets. Dean took the cup Sam held out to him, and try though he might to not drink the contents of the cup, he couldn't stop himself. Finally, Sam stood and picked up the bottle, the final dose of the ritual drink. He drank it from the bottle with a last smile at Dean.

_I don't like that look, Sam. _Dean was tying to ignore the sounds he could hear in his head, trying to stay focused on his brother, on trying to figure out a way to get Sam out of what was going to happen. _Not good, not good. What's happening? _

"Sam?"

"Soon, Dean. Sorry," he whispered.

"Try and stay with me," Dean pleaded.

"I'm trying." Sam had started humming. _Stop humming, damn it Sam. What's that? Oh, god, I'm humming. _The song had started in his head, transferred to his vocal chords without even realizing it. _No, I have to stay focused. I have to save Sam. _

His brother smiled again and then turned, walking quickly out of the room. "Sam!" Dean followed, trying to keep up. _He is walking fast, very fast. What happens now? _Sam was walking back to the refuge, back towards where the _each uisge _waited. Dean was hard on his heels. Sam had stopped by the flat stone. _The raven's altar. _The words formed in Dean's mind. _Oh, great, and now I'm hearing voices. Just freaking great. Sam, you hang on, you stay with me. _

"Sam?" he said, coming up beside where his brother stood.

"Dean?" Sam looked at him, the little left of Sam behind the shifting fog. "I'm sorry."

"Hang on, Sam, we'll get you out of this. I promise."

"Please, Dean," Sam said, his voice terrified. "Please, Dean."

"I promise, Sammy," Dean said fiercely, willing it to be true. _I will save you Sam, I promise, somehow, someway I will save you._

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

"I know, Sammy. I was expecting it, it's why I didn't have you stitch it up."

The knife was in his brother's hand again. "I'm sorry, Dean, god, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy." He put a gentle hand against his brother's face. "It's okay, I'll be there soon." Sam smiled, his eyes meeting Dean's as he slid the blade into him again. Something stung on the knife, a coldness moving away from the wound. Sam guided him down onto the altar again. Dean thought he heard the call of a raven in the trees as Sam traced a pattern on him in blood. A fluttering noise filled Dean's ears. A raven had dropped to the stone beside him, chuckling to itself. It touched Sam's hand with its beak and then touched Dean's face. Sam was singing softly as the _each uisge _approached.

The mists were calling Dean, he held on long enough to see Sam mount the _each uisge _with a last desperate look over his shoulder at Dean. Then Sam was gone, the fog swallowing him as the raven circled over his head. _Oh, god, this is not good. _ He lay there looking at the dark mist, his awareness swirling on the eddies that moved over his head. _I have to get to him. I was sure I was supposed to be there. Sam, you just hang on until I get there, okay? You hear me, Sammy? Please, please hang on. _The fog in his mind had started to lift a little as his blood stopped flowing over his chest. _That's a plus, I don't think the wound is all that deep, they just needed the blood of the family. And weird that I know that. Oh, yeah, this just gets better and better._

He heard them approaching, the pounding of hooves getting closer, and then they were there. Fleshless faces staring down from gray steeds. One of them dismounted and pulled Dean up, indicating he should mount the horse. Dean swung up and the rider settled behind him, cold arms holding Dean in place, the touch of the limbs burning his wrists. The horses moved out, riding along the path that Sam had gone down sometime before. Dean could see into the dark, he could see the night eyes of things disappearing as the horses moved past. They passed the cranberry bog, getting closer and closer to the ritual. Dean could feel that closeness, knew when they were nearly there. _Hang on, Sam, cavalry, really creepy cavalry, is on the way. _

**XXX**

It was cold outside. The _each uisge _was patiently waiting for him. It had moved closer, the moment of joy coming. It would feed well tonight, it would join the hunt on this one night. Fear was curling through him, a tingle mixed with the unbearable joy. The terror diminished as the joy built.

"I promise, Sammy," Dean said. His voice carried the truth of the promise in it.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, suddenly seeing what needed to be done, the knife in his hand somehow. _Where did that come from? _part of him whispered. _It is right, it is good, _the other part answered. He tried to focus on Dean

"I know, Sammy. I was expecting it, it's why I didn't have you stitch it up."

_He knew, oh god, he knew, and he was just going to let it happen? _"I'm sorry, Dean, god, I'm sorry." _Why, Dean? Why? _He was desperate, panicked, trying to stop himself, trying to save Dean. _He understands, he knows, let him rejoice with us. _

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean laid a gentle hand against Sam's face, meeting his eyes. _For the last time with these eyes, _one voice said. _No, no, _another said, quieter. "It's okay, I'll be there soon." _Thank you, Dean. _Then a pause. _Yes, yes, he will rejoice with us, it will be as it was. _

Sam smiled, holding his brother's eyes as he slid the blade into him. His hands understanding the ritual, his voice whispering the words as he drew the pattern in blood. _It is right, it is good. _A raven laughed joyously from the trees. _No, Dean, I'm so sorry, please let me stop this. _The raven landed and smiled at him, looking at the man—_Dean, my brother—_on its altar. The raven chuckled happily, touching his hand and the man's—_No, Dean, it's Dean—_face before laughing gently again. _Let us sing. _The _each uisge _approached, its silent voice joining in his song as he mounted. The raven rose above them, calling them to the place of ritual, calling them to the new hunt, the end and the beginning.

He looked back, the man was on the altar, open eyes staring into the mists. _No, Dean. _He hadn't moved since he had been placed on the stone. _They will come for him, he will join us tonight, it is right, it is good. _The raven called from overhead, the small creatures of the night flitting upwards to join it. _Please, Dean, please. _Sam turned his eyes from the man—_DEAN!—_on the altar. _He will soon be with us and share our joy._

The _each uisge _moved on, joined by increasing numbers that flitted and called as they approached the ritual place. The bells were chiming, calling him as he rode, his song floated over the forest, blending with the raven's call. _Soon, soon. _The longing was beginning, profound, painful. _Yes, soon. _As he passed the cranberry bog the _each uisge _stopped. He dismounted and pulled the cup from under the plants, the cold water sending ripples of pleasure up his arms. _Soon, and so pure, the way it was, the way it hasn't been for so many ages. _The ache of longing increased as he heard the voices of those already gathered singing, the bells chiming and the drum sounding its heartbeat rhythm as he approached.

All sound, all movement stopped as he rode into the clearing. The raven flying ahead and landing on the Great Altar, the flat stone in the earth, called his name as he approached. Those gathered dropped down, their knees touching the ground before they rose. _It is right, it is good, it is joy. _The _each uisge _took him to the altar and he dismounted, running a loving hand over the gray flesh.

"You and yours ride with us tonight, we hunt and you will feed." It nuzzled him gently, blowing cold breath over his face in tribute. "Soon, my friend, soon." The _each uisge _moved to the fringes of those gathered, joining its kind as they waited patiently.

They were approaching, all heads turned to the field behind them and the Hunt came near. The gray horses were prancing in the soft night, their breath mingling with the fog, the rider on the black horse leading them. They stopped in front of him. _Sam, I'm Sam._ On a snapped order, the horses parted, his own steed danced happily between the others. The gray horses dipped their heads as his horse walked past. Finally, it stopped before him, his heart was singing with joy. He gently touched its nose with his forehead, breathing in the musky scent. He felt the soft rush of air as it breathed in the sighing breath he released, taking in the soft scent of the horse as he inhaled. _Hello, my friend, my love. _It ruffled his hair with its breath, snuffling softly as he ran a hand down its black-boned neck. "Welcome," he said to it.

He could hear the other horses, the ones bringing the other man. _Dean. _They came up behind him, the horses pausing, their noses bowing as their riders dipped their heads as well. The man was swung off the horse, a young woman walking to him and pulling him to his proper place before they could begin. The man tried to shake her hands off, but she held on guiding him to his place. She said something and he obeyed. _Good, he hears our words, he understands, he will share our joy. _He met the man's eyes. _Dean, please. _Sam tried to break free, the rider of the black horse had dismounted and stood before him.

"My brother, myself, this is the night of our joy," his king said.

"My brother, myself, this is the night of our joy," he repeated.

His king laid his hand on his face, the movement flickering a memory into focus. _Dean, please. _His king smiled at him, the eyes meeting his as the face shifted young to old, living to dead. _Yes, soon. _

"I am old, my brother, myself," his king said.

"I am young, my brother, myself." The ritual words flowed out of him as the longing ached joyfully in his bones.

A woman, _my priestess, _stepped forward, a bronze bowl in her hands. She first stopped before the man, waiting by the altar. _Dean. _The man drank from the bowl and then she offered each rider a drink, solemnly handing the bowl up to them, they as solemnly handing it back. She stopped before his king and handed him the bowl. The king drank and turned to him, passing the ornate bowl from his own hands into Sam's. _Sam, I'm Sam. _ He drank. The liquid was warm velvet, tracing through his body like the mists. He sighed.

"I ask one favor of you this night, my brother, myself," his king said gently.

"I grant one favor to you this night, my brother, myself."

"Let me ride with my brothers one last time before I sleep under these stars." His king's eyes were pleading, the ritual words filled with a gentle sob and longing.

He laid a hand gently on his king's face, the cold, skeletal flesh sending joyous shivers down his spine. _Soon, soon. _He laughed, his voice ringing out over the clearing. "My brothers we ride!" The ritual words were met with a cheer, loud, reverberating around the clearing and over the dark waters of the bog. He took the reins of his mount in his hands as one of the riders led a gray horse forward, it nuzzled his horse, then snuffled his hair. He led both horses to the man standing beside the Great Altar.

The man—_Dean—_met his eyes, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "We ride tonight, young and old. Beginning and end under these stars. Will you join us, my brother?"

Joy flickered in his brother's—_my brother, Dean—_eyes. "My brother, I will join you this night under these stars." He smiled, black sparks lighting his eyes. "We ride together." He took the reins from his hands, letting his own hand run down the soft gray neck. The man swung up on the horse.

He—_Sam—_turned back to his brothers. "We ride together this night, one last time, under these stars, beginning and end," he called out. The answering cry from every throat filled him with joy as he mounted his horse and pulled up beside his king. The hunting call rang out, voices blending with the baying of the hounds and the neighing of the horses as they moved out. He lifted his voice in the song, the song of this night, the other voices joining him. He heard the man's voice join as well. Laughter filled the night as the dark things flitted ahead, leading the hunt across the fields.

The moments flowed over him like the wind in his face, like the breeze moving his hair. Sometime later as the night moved on towards the moment when the sun stopped, when his life would begin, he pulled up his horse, looking up into the mists, seeing the dark stars overhead. _Time. _The knowledge shivered up his spine, moving through his body, fear touching him momentarily then pushed aside as the riders stopped beside him.

"My brothers, it is time," he called out. Skeletal hands pounded him on the back. As one they turned, the great hooves tearing into the earth as they rode back through the fields to the clearing, ready for the final ritual.

He pulled his horse to a stop just outside the ring lit by the fire. The dancers were waiting, chanting softly. His king dismounted and waited for him, two _each uisge _stood patiently by the water for the final cleansing. He swung down, his king took one hand and led him to the edge of the water, the _each uisge_ gently taking his wrists in their mouths, pulling him into the water. The icy-cold liquid closed over his head as they pulled him first to the bottom of the pond and then out to the large stones in the middle. They waited as he retrieved the cup, the one he had earlier pulled from beneath the blood-red cranberry plants, and then carried him back to the shore.

His king was waiting at the Great Altar. He—_No, I'm Sam, please—_walked towards the king, the man—_Dean, my brother, Dean, please—_coming to stand in his place by the edge of the decorated stone. The priestess began the chant, walking to the king and holding a crown of the golden bough over his head. "The king will soon be dead," she called out, kissing the king's cheeks, then his mouth. Turning she came to him—_Sam—_and held the crown over his head. "Long live the king." And she put the crown on his head, kissing his cheeks and his mouth before moving away.

The king stepped forward with the cup in his hands. "My brother, myself, we share a last drink under these stars."

"Yes, my brother, myself, this last night is ours under these stars." They drank from the cup, a wave of cold shifting over him as the liquid traced its way into his body. "Let the night come," he begged.

"Sam," a voice whispered, harsh, full of emotion.

"The night can come under these stars," his king said, laying hands on his shoulders.

"Let it come, my brother, myself," he pleaded, the longing, the ache nearly unbearable.

"Sammy," the voice whispered again. _He's talking to me. Dean, my brother._

"It is here, I can rest. You can begin."

"We ride together always, my brother, myself." The ritual words sparked a cry from those watching, waiting. The bells were ringing again and the drum was pounding through his blood, a new heartbeat, tearing him away, sending him into the shifting fog.

"Yes," his king said before pulling him into a gentle hug. "It is time." His king placed the sword in his hands.

"My brother, myself, my king," he said, raising the sword.

"My brother, myself, my king," his king repeated.

"No, Sam," the whisper again, pulling him back from the fog. _Dean, I can stop this. I can stop this. _Fear was suddenly awake. Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye, Dean was standing at the edge of the stone, the altar was covered with fruit and branches and silvered ornaments. _I can stop this. _He hesitated.

His king put loving hand on his shoulders. "My brother, myself, he will join you soon, he will ride with you under these stars."

_It is as it was, it is as it should be, my brother will join us under these stars, he will ride with us. It is as it was. _"Thank you, my brother, myself," he said, laying his hand over one of the king's as it rested on his shoulders. He saw the dancers pause with the break in the ritual. They began again, quickly, the song swirling upwards blending with the mists and the sparks flowing up from the fire. _The instant is upon us. _

"Sam," hoarse, rough, tortured.

He lifted the sword. _No, I can stop this, I can. It can end here. _He hesitated, the moment was nearly gone. _Yes, only a moment more and it is over. _Sam held on, the fog calling him as the bells chimed, driving him mad with the joyous longing.

Hands, suddenly on his back, shoved him forward. _No. _Part of him screamed. The blade slid into his king, running him through. They both dropped to their knees.

"My brother, myself, my king, I sleep this night," his king whispered, black blood frothing on his lips.

"My brother, myself, I wake this night," he said as the king dropped from the blade, his body dissolving in a flash of shifting fog.

His own body was falling. He felt it as it moved sideways. "SAM!" The name was ripped from a throat, crescendo. Warm arms caught him. "No," the harsh voice whispered, tears breaching the dam of his eyes.

He rose, looking down at the man—_Dean?—_the man looked up from the body he held in his arms. _It is as it was, it is good. I am whole again after these many ages._ "Sammy?"

"No more," he said, gently, to the man with tears on his face.

He turned to his brothers, laughing, the joy filling him completely, the hunt calling him away. His mount approached, the only remaining black horse, the other passing with the old king as the new was born. He swung onto the horse as the song reached an ecstatic frenzy, the bells ringing in the night and the drums like dancers' steps sounding over the clearing.

"The king is dead," he called out.

"Long live the king," they cried out, answering with joy.

_**To Be Continued**_


	6. Playing Horsies for Eternity

_A/N: I've backed this up to the point where Dean comes to the final ritual. I think we need to have a little of his POV to understand what comes next. For those of you who asked, this takes place before AHBL._

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Six**

**Playing Horsies for Eternity**

The night was cold, the fog shifting through the trees, eddying in pools of graying darkness. The path wound ahead of them, a ribbon of black blood running through the forest. Dean could see bright eyes watching the passing of the horses. Some disappeared when they got near, others flitted out from under the trees to join the growing procession, the bodies dark spots against the night. Some were crooning, a rasping joyful song. "This night the king is come," they sang. _The hell he is, this ends tonight. No more playing with the horsies or feeding the damn birds. _

"The king, he is there," the rider in front of him said, his voice a happy laugh in the night.

"He is there, my king waits for me," Dean said, he heard the strange language from his own mouth. _What the hell. No. Sam, I'm coming, hang on. _

The procession rode into the clearing where he had found his brother that morning. There was a large group of people gathered around a huge flat stone. Other horses gathered with the people. Sam stood at the center of the circle, the man who had slit his throat sat on a huge black horse beside him. _My king, _Dean's heart sang. _No. Sam. My brother. _The horses bowed to Sam and the other one waiting there.

The rider in front of him swung Dean from the horse. A woman, dressed in white with a wreath of evergreen around her neck and bells on her ankles came and took Dean's hand to lead him to his place in the circle. "Let go," he hissed under his breath, trying to shake her hand loose. She dug her nails into his palm, "Respect the king, take your place or die before our joy," she said to him. He understood the words, even though they were in the other language.

Dean watched as the rider of the black horse dismounted and approached Sam. "My brother, myself, this is the night of our joy," the rider said.

"My brother, myself, this is the night of our joy," Sam repeated. _Sammy, no, snap out of it. _

The rider laid a skeletal hand on Sam's face. "I am old, my brother, myself," he said to Sam.

"I am young, my brother, myself," Sam said. Dean could hear the longing in his brother's voice. _No, god, no._

The woman from the hospital stopped before Dean, a bowl in her hands. _You die, very soon. _She held the bowl out to him. _Yes, drink, it is right, it is joy, we can ride with the hunt, with our Kings this night. _Dean hesitated for a minute. _Something strange is happening to me. Should I drink? Will it help Sam? _He reached for the bowl. _It is right, it is good. _He drank, the liquid was sweet on his tongue, tracing a path of molten velvet through his body. His eyes closed as the ringing of the bells around him filled him. There was a soft song coming from somewhere behind him, the dark creatures were humming, their soft music drifting on the air with the mists. His heart joined the song, the sound resonating through his body. He heard a sound in front of him and opened his eyes. The man who would be his king stood there, holding the reins of a gray horse. Dean dipped his head in acknowledgement. _My king. _

"We ride tonight, young and old. Beginning and end under these stars. Will you join us, my brother?" he said, holding the reins of the horse out to Dean.

Joy bubbled through him. _My king, he wants me to ride with him and the Old King, it is as it was, as it should be, I am honored. _"My brother, I will join you this night under these stars," he said with a smile. _No, _part of him said. _No, Sam. It's not the damn king, it's Sam. My brother Sam. _"We ride together." He took the reins from the waiting hands, letting his own hand run down the soft gray neck. It snuffled his hair, he let it breathe in his scent so it would know him. He took a deep breath, reveling in the sweet smell of the skeletal creature.

Dean swung up on the horse, his heart singing as his king called, "We ride together this night, one last time, under these stars, beginning and end." Dean heard his voice answer the call as they moved out. Skeletal hands thumped him on his back. "Welcome, brother," they sang. "Welcome." He laughed joyfully, his voice joining the song of the hunt as they rode the fields. The kings, old and new, rode ahead. He laughed as he sang, reveling in his place as a rider with his king—_Not a rider. Dean, I'm Dean. And this is starting to freak me out. _

The night flowed around him, the song changed seamlessly, one into another as they rode. The wind in his face was cold, exhilarating, as the horse galloped through the night, the dark creatures flying ahead of them, singing their song. Time flowed around him, moving like the wind, like the horses. _I ride with my brothers, I am happy, _part of him said. _No, I ride to save my brother. To save Sam. SAM, _another part of him said.

The horses stopped. "My brothers, it is time," the new king called out. _No, it's Sam. Not the freaking king, Sam. _Dean rode up beside his king and joined his brothers as they pounded the king's back in joyful anticipation. As one they turned, the great hooves tearing into the earth as they rode back through the fields to the clearing, ready for the final ritual.

He pulled his mount to a stop just outside the ring lit by the fire. Swinging off the horse he went to stand in his place beside the Great Altar. He watched as the ritual proceeded. _No, Sam, no, you can stop this. _As the rite moved forward, dread began building. _Can he stop this? Can I? _

The old king stepped forward with a cup in his hands. "My brother, myself, we share a last drink under these stars," he said to Sam.

"Yes, my brother, myself, this last night is ours under these stars." They drank from the cup. _No, Sammy, stop. _"Let the night come," Sam begged, the longing in his voice breaking Dean's heart.

"Sam," he whispered, he barely recognized the voice as his own, the emotion harsh, raw. _Sam, listen to me. Come on. _

"The night can come under these stars," the king said, laying hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Let it come, my brother, myself," Sam pleaded. _No, Sam. _

"Sammy," he said, desperately trying to reach brother. _My king. _

"It is here, I can rest. You can begin." The old king sighed.

"We ride together always, my brother, myself," Sam said. Dean was aware his voice had called out in joy with those words. The bells started ringing and a drum was pounding, the sound like the hoof beats of the horses

"It is time." The old king said, placing a sword in Sam's hands. _No, Sam, no._

"My brother, myself, my king." Sam said, his voice radiating joy.

"My brother, myself, my king," the other repeated.

"No, Sam," Dean whispered. _Sam, listen to me. You can stop this. _He saw Sam hesitate, and his brother's eyes met his, a sideways glance, but for an instant Sam was there. _Sam, come on._

The old king stepped forward and put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "My brother, myself, he will join you soon, he will ride with you under these stars." _Yes, it is right, it is good, it is joy, _part of him sang. _No, what the hell? Not playing horsies for eternity, Sammy, time to end this._

"Thank you, my brother, myself," Sam said gently.

"The time is upon us, we sing our joy," the dancers swirling around the altar lifted their voices to the stars. Dean heard his voice join them.

"Sam." He forced the word out, desperate to reach his brother.

Sam lifted the sword, the tip hovering in the air before the old king. _No, Sam, you can stop this. _Dean saw Sam hesitate. _That's it, you just have to wait until the solstice is over, just a second or two more. Good job, Sammy, hang on, just a second more. _The woman from the hospital suddenly stepped up and shoved Sam, his brother stumbled forwards. _NO! NO! Sam! _The sword slid into the king's body. Sam moaned as they both dropped to their knees. Black blood was pouring from the old king's mouth as he dropped from the blade.

"SAM!" His brother was falling. Dean caught him as he fell. "No." _No, Sam, not like this, no. Come back Sam, please. _Dean felt tears running down his face, hot, like trickles of acid. _No, rejoice, he is born tonight. _He looked up as his king stood. "Sammy?"

"No more," his king said gently. _No, Sam. Please. Oh, god, no._ Sam swung up his horse. "The king is dead," he called out.

"Long live the king." Dean heard the voices call out in joy as the dancers spiraled around him. _No, please._ The bells were ringing as the drums beat in time with his heart. _Sam. _He could feel the tears, running across his face and down his neck, it didn't matter, it meant nothing. _Sammy? Please, please don't be gone. _The joy-filled sound meant nothing, the joy was gone, nothing was there for him but his brother's body in his arms, living, but dead. _Sam? _Nothing of Sam remained. _What do I do? _He had ridden into the night with the others, the dark creatures singing their joy. _How can I go on? _Darkness closed around him, his head dropped heavily to one side as the emotion drained from his body. _Please let this end. Sam? Why? Please. _He was aware when one of the _each uisge _came towards him as his vision blurred. _Oh, god, Sam. No, please, no. Don't be gone. _The last thing he saw was the creature's death head bending towards him with its teeth bared.

His head ached. _Actually I think someone is trying to get out of my brain and they're using an axe. _Dean shifted a little, he was leaning on something soft. Someone was holding his hand. _I'll kill you for that, Sammy. _Reality slowly drifted back. _No, it can't be Sam, he's…_Dean opened his eyes. He was in the king's room at the hospital.

"Dean?" a gentle voice asked from beside him. Dean looked over, Vivian was sitting quietly, holding his hand.

"Vivian? What…" He struggled to sit up.

"They brought you in last night." Her eyes were red and puffy, traces of tears still marked her face. "My son died…I was leaving and I saw them bring you—and is this your brother?—into the hospital." She sighed. "I'm so very sorry, my dear."

Dean looked over at the bed. Sam was lying motionless, an IV in his hand. He was dressed in rich robes, the bed was covered with a lush spread, flowers sat on the table beside the bed and on the tray at the foot of the bed. _No. Sam, I'm sorry. No. You like this? Not an option, sorry. Not an option._ "No, no, no," Dean said aloud. Vivian looked at him with her grief-filled eyes. "I'll figure out a way to save him." _Hear me, Sam? I'm getting you out of this. _

"It's too late for saving, Dean. He's gone, like my son, like the others before them."

"No." Dean pushed himself up out of the chair. He put his hand down on his brother's arm. It was warm, Dean could feel the beat of Sam's pulse under his hand. _Alive, but gone. I saw him leave. _"Sam? I'm on it. I'll get you back." _What do I do? You want to tell me how you are going to get out of this? Any brilliant ideas? Damn it, Sammy, I need my trusty sidekick geek boy._

"Dean?"

"Don't give me the acceptance lecture," he snapped. "I can't, no. Sam leaving like this is not an option."

"He's dead."

"No." Dean shook his head. _Not dead, not an option. _"He's not, he's here, his body is alive, that means there's a chance." _There has to be. _

"How?" Vivian said gently, her hand on his arm.

"I don't know. Not yet." _Sammy? What the hell do I do now? You're off playing horsies and I'm here. How can I fix this?_ _Any brilliant ideas? _Dean pulled out his phone and dialed. When the call went through he asked to speak with Dizzy.

"Still alive, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean said. He could hear the weariness in his voice. _I'm alive, Sam…Oh, god, Sammy._

"Dean? What?" Dizzy said, concerned.

"My brother…" Dean cleared his throat. "Have you found anything else out? Is there was way to stop it?" _Brilliant ideas needed. Hell even half-assed ideas would help._

"You realize this is a myth, right?"

Dean laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right, a myth." He sighed. "Tell me about the myth."

"Okay, sure. According to what I read, once the king is crowned at the solstice the hunt, the riders, the king, the other creatures that ride with them, are corporeal for twenty-seven hours."

"So after that they disappear?"

"Not necessarily, they're just untouchable. Before that they're part of the physical world."

"Anything else, Dizzy?" _There has to be a way to get to Sam._

"I did find some interesting lore about how the hunt gets new members. It's from the writings of a Roman who witnessed the ceremony in about 30 A.D." She paused, Dean could hear pages turning.

"Dizzy? Waiting here."

"Oh, sorry, started reading." Dizzy laughed. "According to our Roman friend, the brother of the king joins the hunt. He is part of the sacrifice, and then after the king rises, his brother joins the hunt."

"Joins the hunt?"

"Yeah, he rides in a special place until the king's year is over. After that he is stays, but is just a rider, the next king's brother takes his place." _My brothers wait for me. They are waiting at the Great Altar for me to ride with them, _part of him said. "Dean? Hello? You there?"

"Uh," Dean said, looking around the room. _Just freaking great, this just gets better and better. Now I'm hearing voices. _"Anything else?" _Come on, anything that might help?_

"The king can be challenged by one of the hunt, but only during the twenty-seven hours that they are corporeal."

"Challenged? And what happens?"

"I don't know, according to the myth…Well, no one has seen the challenge and lived to tell of it. I'm not sure if the challenge is issued. I might have it wrong, but it's something of an honor to ride with the hunt."

Dean remembered the longing in his brother's voice as he begged that the ritual proceed, the look of joy lighting his face as he drank from the cup, the look of gentle pity as his king looked down at him as he held Sam's body. _No, not my king. Sam. Not the freaking king. _"Thanks, Dizzy."

"Dean? Why do I think you are going to do something a little suicidal?"

"Who? Me?" Dean laughed, or tried to, it was a forced, harsh sound. "I'll be okay, thanks for all your help."

"I expect to see you soon, Dean. You owe me at least one giant coffee for all this."

"As long as you promise not to tear my heart out and feed it to wild dogs."

"No, promises, but I'll try and restrain myself."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for," Dean said. "Talk to you later." He flipped the phone closed and looked down at Sam. "Sammy…" The door opened, Dean turned, the woman who had pushed Sam at the ritual walked into the room. Before he could stop himself, he had slammed her against the wall, his hands closing on her throat. Vivian was pulling at his arm urging him to let go. _No, she dies, she dies for this. _His hands were closing of their own volition, the woman was slowly turning from red to purple.

"Let me go," she forced out. "Or you will not be allowed here."

"Dean," Vivian said urgently. "You need to be here for your brother."

"No, this bitch did it to him," Dean said, still applying pressure.

"It won't help your brother," Vivian said gently.

The door opened again and the huge security guard came in and pulled Dean from the woman with seemingly no effort. Large hands held him immobile as he struggled to get his own hands back around the woman's throat. _Next time I make sure I have the damn gun. _"Your brother wanted this. He agreed to it."

"What did you say to make him agree to it?" Dean hissed.

"It would have happened either way, he was chosen. But by agreeing to enter the ritual willingly, he saved your life."

"No." Dean deflated, hanging limp in the hands that held him. _Sammy, why the hell didn't you tell me? You did, didn't you? When you said the _each uisge _wouldn't take me? Damn it, Sammy. What do I do? How can I…_ "Let me go," he said quietly. "I won't try anything again." The guard dropped him heavily onto the floor. Dean stayed there as the woman checked on Sam, lovingly arranging a new bowl of flowers and dropping a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead as she left.

Dean put his head into his hands. _What do I do? Sam? Any bright ideas? Although your last one wasn't all that bright. How could you? I'm the one who gets to do the suicidal shit, not you. Sam, I…I'm not sure I can go on without…_He sighed. _You can join him, ride with him, share his joy, _part of him whispered, the bells chiming gently as the voice played in his head. _Great, now I have another voice in my head. Just freaking great. What's next talking to the birds? Feeding them bits of myself? _The soft chuckle of a raven filled his mind. _That is exactly what you can do, join us, join us brother, ride with your king, _the raven said. _Dean, join us. The king needs his brother, your brothers wait for you, _the raven continued. Dean's heart was starting to pound a little harder than it should. _The damn birds are talking to me, just freaking great. _

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. _What do I do? Well, I know what I need to do, I have a few hours left to do it. Can I keep enough of myself to manage it? _He pushed himself up off the floor and walked to the bed, looking down at his brother. He gently opened the robe and let his finger trace the design, now black like a fresh tattoo, on Sam's chest. "Damn it, Sam. Why didn't you say something?" He could hear the grief in his voice, the words dropping thickly into the silence of the room. _Sam? Are you gone? How can I fix this? If I can't, what do I do. _He sighed. _I know what I have to do, Sam. I know. _

"Will you say with him?" Dean said, turning to Vivian. "I need to try something, I'll be back by morning." _Or I won't be back at all. _

"Of course, my son is dead, I have no one. I'll stay with your brother, it will be hard to leave this room," she said, tears falling from her eyes. Dean smiled at her and gave her shoulder an awkward pat.

"Hang on, Sam, just for a little longer," Dean said, giving his brother's arm a little squeeze before turning and striding out of the room. He wandered through the hallways wondering how he could find the woman. He'd just about given up when he caught sight of her turning a corner ahead of him. Dean turned the corner, the hall ended at a chapel. _A chapel? Weird. _Dean pushed the door open and went in. The chapel was decorated with evergreen boughs and mistletoe, there was an altar at the front of the room covering in bronze and silver bowls, there were several small bells on the altar. The room was lit with flickering candles.

The huge security guard grabbed him as he walked into the room. He started to drag Dean out. "No, wait," Dean pleaded.

The woman turned to face him. "I thought we made it clear if you caused trouble we would bar you from the king's room."

"No, you don't understand," Dean said, still keeping the desperate pleading note in his voice. _Yes, it is good, _part of him whispered. _Shut the hell up, _the other part said.

"What?" she said, walking towards him. A purple band of bruises marred her white throat.

"Please," Dean whispered.

She waved the guard away. "What is it?" she said, a new, gentle note in her voice.

_This is for Sam, just remember that. _"Please," Dean said. "I wish to join my brothers."

She put a hand on his face, looking in his eyes. "Why?"

"Please, I want to ride with my king." _Yes, it is right, it is joy, I will ride with my brothers. _Dean suppressed the sigh. _I said shut the hell up. And you ravens? I don't even want to hear from you. _The soft chuckle of the bird's voice sounded in his head. _Uh, hello? I said no. _

She took his hand and pulled him towards the altar. When he reached the front of the room Dean sank to his knees, his body following a ritual his mind refused to recognize. "Will you drink?" She held out a crystal chalice. He took the cup in his hand, drinking the liquid down in one gulp. She bent forward and kissed his forehead, running a gentle, loving hand through his hair. "It is right, it is good, it is joy," she whispered in the other language.

"It is right, it is good, it is joy," he replied.

"We will meet at the Great Altar."

"Yes," he said, standing. He turned his back on the altar, on the king's priestess and walked out of the room. _That just tasted like the mead we had for dinner. Was there something more to it? Hmm, I wonder what happens when I get to the clearing? _Dean walked out of the hospital into a day slowly filling with mist. As he approached the Impala he noticed something sitting on his car. _Damn birds. _"Hey, get off my car."

The raven chuckled at him, hopping along the top of the car and then stopped by the driver's side door, looking at Dean with a cocked head. _Just freaking great. _The raven looked at him and barked. "Dean," it said. _Not listening to birds. Sorry. _He put his keys in the door and unlocked it, the raven was still sitting watching him. Dean waved his hand at it to shoo it away. The bird hopped on his wrist, the talons cutting through his skin like a knife through butter. The bird bent forward and dipped its beak in Dean's blood, and with another barking laugh, filled with Dean's name, it flew away. He watched as the raven turned in the direction of the clearing.

"This day is just getting better and better," he said aloud, dropping into the seat of the car. He could still hear the laughing of the raven, and underneath that, underneath the familiar rumble of the Impala he could hear the soft chiming of bells, the pounding of hooves as they galloped joyfully through the fields, reveling in the day and the soft mists winding through the forest. His heart pounded in anticipation. _Soon, soon I ride with my king, with my brothers. _He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles showing white. _No, stop. I need to hang on. I need to get Sam out of this. No playing horsies for eternity._

Dean drove slowly through the town, ignoring the call of the bells and the singing of the small creatures, invisible during the day, but there nonetheless. He drove past the cranberry bog, looking like a pool of congealed blood beside the road. Fog was closing in, the world bathed in the soft light of twilight, though it was still early in the day. The strange stunted trees with their black trunks were dripping with moisture, the undergrowth was dark, the canes of reeds sticking out from the bogs lining the road. _Oh, god, Sam, I hope this works. Sammy? I'm sorry. Next time we hear about something like this we are going to run in the other direction. I know, I know, Sammy, but I don't care, twelve dead, twenty, a hundred? Stopping that is not worth your life. Never, Sam. Sorry, just not an option._

He pulled into the clearing, parking the car at the end of the road. There was another car already there, waiting. He got out and walked slowly towards the flat stone in the middle. _She is waiting, it is right, it is good, soon I can join my brothers. I ride with my king. _Dean shifted his shoulders. _I need to hold on long enough to challenge the king. _He walked up to the altar, there was a wreath laying on the black stone. Dean stopped by it, he could hear the horses approaching. _My king! _Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the _each uisge_ gallop into the clearing, its skeletal muzzle red with blood. The riders followed, parting to make way for the king.

The king swung off his horse and came to stand beside his priestess. Dean saw the face, no longer shifting like the mist, but Sam there in the death's mask visage. _Oh Sam, no. _"My king," he heard his voice. _What the hell? _"I beg you, let me join you, let me ride with you and serve you under these stars." _What? Shut up. _

His king stepped forward. _No, it's Sam. My brother, Sam. _He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, dead eyes meeting Dean's. "My brother, you will ride with us, I have been waiting for you." He smiled. "It has been a long wait."

"My king," Dean dropped his head in a small bow. "I have waited long." _What? What did I just say? _He looked back up into his king's eyes. "We will ride together."

"Yes," his king said. Then, just for an instant Dean saw something flicker in the dead eyes—recognition. "No, Dean," Sam's voice whispered, the English sounding strange from the skeletal mouth.

"Hang on, Sam," he whispered. The next second Sam was gone and the king was there.

"We do not have much time," his king said. "Please, ride with us, I am tired of waiting."

The woman stepped forward and met Dean's eyes. "We don't have time for all the ritual, if I had known you wished to serve our king, I would have prepared you, as it is…" She held up a syringe shimmering with a metallic liquid. "The drink would take too long to affect you." She reached for Dean's arm, he was transfixed by his king's gaze. _Yes, it is right, it is good. _The other riders surrounded him. _As brilliant ideas go, this might be a big mistake. _The needle slid into his arm, he watched in fascination as the plunger depressed and a soft metallic glow ran up the length of his arm.

He was falling, dropping down thousands of feet into darkness, into the abyss. Gentle hands caught him and lowered him onto the Great Altar. His king bent over him. "Rest my brother, soon, soon you will ride with us." His king reached a hand out and gently closed his eyelids over eyes that no longer functioned.

He could hear them singing as he opened his eyes, a fire was burning in the clearing, the song of old swirling around the clearing filled with smoke and the sound of his brothers' laughter. "My brother," his king stood over him. "Welcome, welcome…" he laughed in joy as he held a hand out and pulled Dean to his feet. Dean smiled at his king and looked down at his body, motionless on the flat stone. _Oh, that can't be good. _He looked back up at his king. _No, Sam, it's Sam. _

"My king, we will ride this night," Dean said. _Not really. _He walked over to the horse he had ridden the night before, running a gentle loving hand over the dead gray flesh. _Gross. _He slid his hand over the saddle and pulled the great sword from the scabbard. "Before we ride, my king…"

His king turned to face him, again, just for an instant he saw Sam, his little frown on his face. "My brother?" his king said, a smile lighting his face. "You challenge me?"

_I hope this is a good idea. I'm getting the feeling it isn't. _"I challenge you, my king. I stand before you and offer the challenge, asking for the worthiness of your reign before we begin." The words rolled off his tongue easily. _And where did that come from? _He stood in the center of the stone. _It is right, my king must stand for the challenge, it is right, it is good, it is joy. _Dean shifted, balancing the heavy sword in his hands. _Okay, where did that come from? And why do I suddenly think this is a bad idea? And hey, my body laying there? Just creepy._

"It is good," his king said.

"My liege," one of the riders said. "I stand in your stead as your champion this night."

"I will allow it, my brother," his king said, clapping the rider on the back.

_Okay, that didn't go as planned. Just freaking great. How am I going to get Sam out of this?_

The rider walked towards him, a bastard sword in his hands. "My brother." He bowed to Dean, raising his sword..

"My brother." Dean bowed back.

_Do I even know how to fight with one of these? _

_What the hell?_

_Brilliant plan, there, Dean, just freaking brilliant._

And Dean stepped forward, raising his sword, as his opponent took the first swing with the large blade.

_Oh, yeah, just freaking brilliant._

_**To Be Continued**_


	7. Farewell, My King

_A/N: Thank you everyone for sticking with me and my little descent into weirdness. Thank you for taking the time to read and review! Special thanks to Dennis for keeping an eye on the chick-flick moment._

**Ring Out Solstice Bells**

**Chapter Seven**

**Farewell, My King**

The mists were curling through the clearing, the fog blanketing everything in a soft gray, obscuring all but the patch around the Great Altar. The riders had gathered around the stone, ringing the two combatants, the king waiting patiently at the head of the stone. The horses were whuffing in excitement, as if they sensed the battle waged between the two facing each other, swords in their hands.

The first blow of his opponent vibrated down the sword Dean held up to block. _And, hey, managed to block it, not bad for a first try. _He countered with a swing, too wide, that missed the rider by several inches. His opponent came at him again, another swinging blow, nearly driving Dean down as his blocked it again, the sword slipping out of his hand as he blocked the blow. _This is not working. _Dean grabbed his sword, the other rider had waited for him to rearm himself. _Okay, what do I do? _He sighed as his opponent stepped forward. _I know how to fight, I know how to win, _part of him whispered. _Shut up, _the other answered.

His opponent stepped in again, his blade moving so fast Dean could barely see it, not a swinging blow, but a savage thrust. Dean managed to duck, but the sword caught him on the arm, slicing through the tattered flesh and scoring the bone. _Gross, when did my arms start looking like that? _He got his own sword up and swung, catching the other on the thigh, he felt the vibration in the blade as the sword stopped hard against the bone. _Where did that come from? _Dean stepped back to let his opponent rise. _Let me, _part of him whispered. _Do I dare? I have to win, I can't save Sam if I don't win, _the other part of him said. He took a deep breath, and hoping against hope that he could somehow reclaim himself later, let the other part of himself, the rider, take over.

He stepped back into the fight, his arm wielding the sword easily. _Yes, it has been too long I have waited in the shadows. I serve my king, I will be his champion, _part of him said. _No, only to save Sam, _answered a tiny, tiny whisper. His opponent stepped in, sword raised for another blow. Before he could even swing, Dean swung his own blade, a mighty blow using the huge weight of the sword to add momentum to his blow.

And it was over.

His opponent dissolved in a blackened pool on the Great Altar, head severed from body. One of the waiting horses gave an agonized cry and it, too, disappeared from amongst them, carried away with its rider into the Land Beyond. The dark creatures flitted in, circling the Altar in joyfully swoops, crying his name, Dean's name, on the wind. Their laughing song filled the clearing with noise. The riders cheered him, some coming forward to pound him on the back, others smiling, but holding back a little.

"My brother," his king said, approaching him. "Well fought."

He dropped to his knees before his king, head bowed. "I but offered the challenge, my king. My arm knew who it served."

He felt his king's hands on his shoulders, gently applying pressure. "Rise, my brother, my champion. You shall serve at my right hand."

"I am honored," he said, standing. His brothers grinned at him, joy lighting their skeletal faces.

"We ride the hunt," his king called to the circle of riders. "My brothers let us ride this night." He turned to the _each uisge. _"You, too, ride with us." The _each uisge _threw their noses to the wind and turned as the riders mounted their horses.

Dean walked to his mount and ran a hand over its neck. "Come, we ride, we serve our king this night." The horse blew a playful, death-scented breath through his hair. Dean breathed in the scent and swung onto its back.

The hunt turned as one and waited as the king walked his horse to the front. Dean reined in on his right side. His king turned and smiled at him. "I have waited too long for you to ride beside me again, my brother."

"I beg forgiveness, my king." He said, dropping his head, feeling the sorrow, the loss his king had known as he waited.

"No need, you are here now." His king slapped him on his back and then turned to the others. "We ride!"

Cheers erupted from all around them, the happy laughter becoming the shout of the hunt as they moved out, the hounds and the _each uisge _ahead of them as they coursed through the fog-shrouded fields. Someone began singing, the voices joined together as they sang of the hunt, of times past and of brotherhood. Dean sang with them, the words known, the melody well-remembered, joy filling him as he rode together with his brothers. _No, no we are here for Sam, my brother, _the tiny whisper, now so faint he could barely hear it, whispered. _Our king is our brother, yes, but so are the others, we are joined to this hunt, let us celebrate. _The wind washed over him, ruffling his hair as the horse galloped over the fields. He laughed, light-hearted, as he rode, enjoying the night, the strength of the horse beneath him and the songs of his brothers.

Suddenly, the barking howl of the hounds changed, they had scented something, and increased speed, their barks now howls in the quiet night. The _each uisge _were uttering a growling howl of their own as they ran with the pack, heads down, following the scent of the thing they hunted. The riders yelled in excitement.

"We are close! You brought us luck, my brother!" his king yelled to him.

Dean laughed. "It is you who brings us luck, my king!" _What are we hunting? _The nearly silent voice asked. _The dark night, _the other part answered. _What? What the hell does that mean? _the whispering voice asked. Before the other part could answer, he heard the terrible growl that issued from amongst the dark trees. It was there, waiting, it had heard the cry of the hounds and was waiting for them. It suddenly burst out of the cover of the trees and ran ahead, a dark shadow in the mists.

The hounds were nearly on it when it turned back. Racing through the pack toward the riders it launched itself at the king, pulling him off the horse and dragging him away at a gallop as fast as any horse.

"NO!" Dean yelled, aware that both the voices within him had cried out, one for his king, the other for Sam. He drove spurs into the horse and they raced ahead. As he rode he pulled the sword from its scabbard, driving the horse faster, pushing it to its limits. They caught up with the thing and passed it. Dean swung the horse around to stop the thing, thrusting forward with his sword at the same time.

The blade plunged into the dark shape, cold, painful cold, ran up the blade and into his arm. It tugged at him like the hand of death. He pulled the sword from its body and leapt from the horse, reaching a hand out to pull his king up from where the thing had dropped him. He pushed his king behind him as it attacked again, this time a hand was suddenly there, claws glistening on the ends of shadowed fingers. The claws caught him, ripping through flesh and bone. Gasping in pain, he managed to swing his blade, imbedding it in the creatures neck. At that moment the rest of the hunt was on them, his brothers driving their own blades into the thing. It screamed its death cry and fell, leaving a smoking ring in the golden grass.

Dean had dropped to his knees, pain running through his body like molten lead, pulling him down towards the abyss. Hands clasped his shoulders, pulling on him until he was propped against someone. "Bring the skin from my horse," his king's voice said. He realized he was lying against his king, he struggled to sit up. "No." Gentle hands restrained him. "Wait for a moment, my brother."

"Are you unharmed?" Dean said. _Sammy, are you okay? _The nearly silent part whispered.

"Thanks to you," his king said. "Drink this." He did as he was told, letting the sweet liquid fill him, warm him. Dean felt life flow slowly back into his body. He sighed. _Yes, let the drink work, let it take us away, silence the other voice until we can just ride, just serve. Yes, it is right, it is good. _Dean's muscles tensed at the thought. _No, _the nearly silent, now nearly gone, part of him whispered. He struggled to get back to himself, aware that the soft velvet of the drink was pulling him away from the world with a crushing finality. _I can ride with my king, serve him, until his year is up. Then, perhaps, even stand as champion when he is reborn. As I have, as I will, so it was, so it should be. _He let himself drift on the thought. _He who is now the king is gone, there is no one left to serve in the other world. Here we are loved, we ride with our brothers. _

"Dean?" Sam's voice suddenly said.

Dean opened his eyes. He shifted enough so he could see the face of his king, what he saw there drove the mists away and tore the soft velvet from his body. The voice of the rider was nearly silenced in that moment as he realized Sam's eyes were looking down at him with concern. "Sammy?" he whispered.

"Dean…" As he watched Sam slowly began to fade away again, replaced by the king.

"No." Dean pushed himself up, automatically offered a hand to pull his king to his feet. _No, I can't do this. He is my king, I am his champion, _part of him whispered. _Yeah, I told you to shut the hell up, _the other part answered. He watched as his king walked back to his horse. "This ends now," he said aloud. He picked his sword up from the grass and, taking a deep breath, raised it in the position of challenge. "Sam?" he said, the English feeling foreign on his tongue.

His king turned at the sound, he took in Dean's stance and he frowned. "You challenge me?"

"Yep," Dean said, again in English. "My king, I offer the challenge. I am your champion, none can stand in your stead." The rest came out in the other language.

"After you saved my life? After I made you my champion? You dare challenge me?" his king said as he drew his sword.

"Forgive me, my king." Dean dropped his head in sorrowful bow. "But yes, I challenge you."

"Very well," his king said. The other riders dismounted them and surrounded them, most growling at the challenge, one or two calling support.

His king stepped towards him. _It's Sam. SAM. Not the king, it's Sam. _Dean waited for a moment before taking the first swing, somehow knowing the etiquette without letting the rider take control. Sam was gone from the king again, the eyes were ancient, young, the face shifting a little, but Dean could still see something of his brother in the skeletal face. His king, _SAM!_, blocked the blow easily, laughing a little as he did. _Fine, laugh. _Dean blocked the next blow, the blades locked together for and instant and his king's face was mere inches from his. He shoved the king away with a huge heave, the swords singing a little as they broke contact. The king came at him again, the swipe caught Dean in the leg, driving him to the ground. He forced himself up and at the same time thrust forward with the sword, pushing it towards the king. He felt the tip connect with flesh before it was shoved away by the other's blade.

Dean could barely stand. The king's sword had badly damaged his leg. He limped forwards, sword raised to bring it down towards the other's exposed neck. The blow was deflected and he was shoved back to the ground. Dean managed to push himself up again, knowing that this would be the last time he would be able to manage it. His leg was beginning to give out and the wounds the creature had inflicted were suddenly opening again as the effect of the drink was dispelled from his body. As he stepped back into the fray, his king moved, sword held low. Dean was aware as the blade slid into his chest, his own momentum pushed the entire length of the sword into his body. He dropped to his knees as his king pulled the blade from his body. "No," the voice that sounded more like Sam said. His king dropped to his knees beside him. "No," the voice was whisper soft.

Dean met the eyes, ancient, young and smiled as he felt the life flowing from his body. "Forgive me, my king." His king looked puzzled for a moment. "Sorry, Sammy," Dean said in English and managed to get the sword up one last time. He swung it, the last act, felt it connect with the body, felt it move through flesh and bone, felt it as it moved on. He saw the king's body drop, lifelessly, to the ground as his own fell. The riders cried out, he heard them moving towards them, felt their blades in his now numb body as they each took the ceremonial blow intended to kill the one who killed their king. The blows felt like the soft punch of a pillow, there was nothing, the mists slowly wound around him as his brothers raised their voices in the keening chant to sing the death of their king.

Then there was nothing, the mists were gone, the song was gone, the pain was gone. And then Dean was gone, sinking into the abyss.

**XXX**

There was a soft silence for a moment, gentle, like the touch of satin on the skin and then he exploded back into his body. For an instant it felt as if his heart has stopped, pain flared briefly out from his chest and then faded into the background. He drew a ragged breath and then another. He was lying on something soft, he was warm, there was a tight pinch in his arm that his mind hazily identified as an IV. "Dean?" he said softly.

"What?" a female voice answered him.

Sam opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed, it looked like a hospital bed, though the room's furnishings didn't. Heavy drapes hung on the windows, a large table decorated with glittering dishes, fruit, flowers and evergreen branches stood against the wall opposite the bed. There were flowers at the foot of the bed and beside the bed. Sam looked over at the small woman sitting in the plush chair. "Who are you?" he asked. _Did Dean tell me he had met someone?_

"My name is Vivian, dear." She smiled, bright tears in her eyes. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," he said, struggling to sit up, trying desperately to remember where he was and what he was doing there. "Where am I? What happened?" Sam looked around. "Where's Dean?"

"He left me here with you yesterday. He hasn't come back," Vivian said sadly.

"What happened?" Sam asked again. He noticed something was stinging on his chest, he looked down. Black lines drawn in an intricate knot were slowly fading. The lines originally drawn with the knife were still there, dark scabs marring his skin. Memory began to wind its way back into his consciousness. He looked down at his hand, still bandaged from where he had stabbed the fork through it. _It felt so long ago, but that wound is still fresh. _The rituals, the ravens speaking to him, riding the hunt, the wind rushing through his hair began unfolding in his mind. The final ritual, trying to stop the final moments, but then being pushed forwards, the death of the king and the moment he became the king. The memory of Dean holding his body, tears on his face—they all played in his head. He felt tears pool in his eyes as he remembered the anguish on Dean's face. Then…

_No. _He remembered the call to return to the altar, the ritual for his brother, making him a member of the hunt. Dean's challenge, the hunt and…_Oh god no. No. I…I think I killed him. I remember my sword, I remember…No. I did kill him, right before he killed me. He died, didn't he?_ Sam pulled the IV out of his hand and swung his legs off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Vivian asked, putting a steadying hand on him as he swayed where he say, the remnants of the drugs still washing through his body.

"I have to find Dean." He stood, and dropped back down onto the bed. Taking a deep breath he pushed himself up again, standing for a moment as the room spun around him. "Do you have a car?"

"Yes."

"Can I borrow it?"

"You're really in no condition to drive. Let me help." Vivian met his gaze. "Please, for my son, let me help you."

Sam nodded. "Okay, let's go."

"Did you want to change first?"

Sam looked down quizzically at the rich robes covering his body. "That might be a good idea." Vivian showed him the closet and while she waited, standing guard in the hall, he changed. Five minutes later they were sneaking out of the hospital, down the stairs rather than the elevator and out into the parking lot.

The mists were gone, the winter sun bright in the sky. Sam could hear birds singing in the trees. _No ravens, just birds. _The wind was moving in the bushes and Sam could hear the soft lap of water and cars moving on the road beyond the hospital. As Vivian went to get the car he stood listening, reveling in the soft sounds, free of the movement of horses, chanting or the ringing of bells. Normal sounds of a normal day.

Vivian pulled up and he dropped into the passenger seat of her car, giving her directions back to the clearing. As they pulled away he saw the woman he remembered from the ER, from the rituals, run out of the hospital He met her eyes, she was weeping. _She knows the king is dead. My priestess forgive me_, a small voice whispered. _No, I am free of that. Dean freed me._

She was silent as they drove, somehow sensing his mood. _I killed Dean. _He saw the cranberry bog as they drove past, the fleeting memory of stopping and pulling the ritual cup from beneath the icy, blood-red waters playing in his head. He sighed, sorrow filled him as the memory played. Swallowing, he forced his eyes forward, watching for the turn onto the road that led to the clearing. Vivian pulled up beside the Impala, but before the car had even stopped Sam was out the door, standing as a wave of dizziness washed over him and then running toward the clearing. A raven called from above his head, its voice held a chiding note. His foot caught on something and he stumbled. He couldn't stop the fall and went down full length into the cold, wet grass beside the bog. He pushed himself up, noticing the blood stained stone beside the water.

Gritting his teeth against the nausea and dizziness, he got up again and ran towards the still figure lying on the stone in the center of the clearing. "Dean!" he heard himself scream his brother's name as he ran. The raven had flown down to the end of the stone and was watching as Sam approached. _No, Dean. _He dropped to his knees beside his brother, desperately feeling for a pulse. Dean's skin felt cool to the touch. _No, no, please no._

"My king?" Sam looked up, away from Dean. The raven had its head cocked looking at him. "The hunt waits."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I want to stay here." The raven looked at him a moment more before stretching its wings and, with a sad, coughing laugh, flew into the bright blue sky.

Sam watched it, his heart pounding against his chest as the longing he had experienced while waiting for the rituals filled him. _I could go back, I could ride with my brothers. What's left for me here if Dean is gone? I could…What was that? _His fingers had registered a tiny beat. Sam held his breath, Dean's chest rose slowly and another tiny flicker beat against Sam's fingers. Sam pulled his brother up into his arms, holding him tightly. "Dean, you're…" he whispered. He let his head drop down against Dean's as tears began flowing down his face. "You're alive."

"Sammy?" Dean asked. It could have been hours later for all Sam knew. "Sammy?" He felt Dean's arms go around him as his brother returned the embrace, fierce, tight, as if they had been apart for years. "You're alive."

"Yeah," Sam said with a nearly breathless sob. "You, too."

"Yeah, me too," Dean said, leaning against him for a moment longer. Sam could feel his brother's hands trembling on his back. Dean gave him another quick squeeze and pulled away far enough to look at Sam. Dean's eyes were red, tears were tracking down his face. "I thought…"

"Yeah, me, too." Sam let go, shifting so he was sitting beside Dean on the stone. Dean let his shoulder rest against Sam's. _We both need the contact right now, I think. _They sat together in silence, each lost in thought. Sam looked over at the bog, the memory of the rituals playing again, the pain and joy each had brought, the feeling of being caught between worlds. A sound slowly intruded in the memories. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I hear it too." Dean tried to push himself up. "Can you get up?" he said with disgust. "Because I can't."

"The drug is still in your system from yesterday," Sam said, standing. He hauled Dean to his feet.

"Was it only yesterday?"

"Yeah." Sam looked over as the sound of hoof beats got louder. The riders slowly appeared, swirling around them like mist, ethereal, untouchable. They surrounded Sam and Dean, circling the Great Altar, the sound of their reins ringing softly like bells, merry jingles in the bright morning light. As one they stopped and drew swords from their scabbards, raising them in salute, in challenge, a cry rang out through the clearing. Then with the whisper of steel on leather, they sheathed their swords and turned, disappearing before they had ridden out of the clearing.

"Sam?" Dean turned to look at him.

"It was a challenge, they know who we are, what we've done." Sam heard the sadness in his voice.

"We'll be back next year to end this, Sam," Dean said softly, putting a hand on his arm.

"They have no king," Sam said, still caught in the vision of the riders circling them.

"Sammy, hey, we'll end it next year." He could hear the desperate note in his brother's voice.

"My—our—brothers?" Sam said, looking at Dean, but not seeing him as he was, but as the man who had ridden beside him, who had save his life and had challenged him in the dark mists.

"Yes. Our brothers." Dean's voice was sad too, understanding what it meant. "But we have to end it."

"I know." He tried to shake off the double vision, it was tugging at him, calling him back.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came from a long way away. Something hard connected with Sam's face, a sharp slap. Hands on his shoulders were shaking him. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" He focused on his brother. _My brother, only mine, not theirs. My brother, someone who would risk everything, even who he is, to save me. _

"You with me?" Dean was looking in his eyes, searching.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Yeah." The hands on his shoulders tightened before Dean let them drop away.

"Good boy. Let's get out of here." Dean turned and they walked back towards the car where Vivian was still waiting. A raven was sitting on a branch over the Impala. "Not listening to birds, go away," Dean growled at the bird. Sam looked over in surprise at his brother. Dean grinned a little shakily. "Damn birds are talking to me."

"Dean, you're okay," Vivian said, gently hugging his brother.

"Yeah." Dean smiled at her. "Will you be okay?"

"Yes, I think I can be free of this place now. My sons are dead, but at least I know it will end. You will end it?"

"Next year," Dean said with complete conviction.

"Thank you." With a gentle smile at Sam she got back in her car. She waved a little as she turned and left.

Dean looked over at Sam. "Ready?" When he didn't answer immediately, Dean frowned. "Sammy?"

Sam tore his eyes away from the clearing. "I…"

"Me, too. But I think the longer we stay, the worse it will get, let's go." Dean pulled the door open and dropped into the driver's seat. Sam got in. "We'll grab our stuff and head south, I think."

"South?" Sam said, looking over at him.

"Someplace warm and not foggy," Dean said, smiling at him. "We need to get you checked out, too. Make sure what they did to you…" Dean trailed off.

"I'm okay, Dean." He met his brother's eyes. "I am if you are, how's that?" _Dean? Are you okay?_

"I…" Dean reached over and put his hand on Sam's shoulder again, as if confirming he was sitting there, solid, alive, in the flesh. Sam realized his brother's eyes were haunted, a pain reflected in them that had nothing to do with leaving the hunt, everything to do with what had happened.

"Dean?"

"I am now, Sammy," Dean's voice was a whisper, a tear had escaped his eyes and was trickling down his face. He squeezed Sam's shoulder again and then ran a hand across his face. Sam could see his brother's hands were shaking. "I am now." Sam watched as Dean got control of himself, pushing the emotions away, squaring his shoulders and sitting up in the seat, ramrod straight. Sam smiled gently, he'd seen his brother do it a thousand times, the emotion wasn't ever let out for too long. Dean turned the car on and shoved a tape in the stereo.

"Where are we headed?"

"Arizona, I think," Dean said with a little smile.

"Why there?"

"I know a psychotic archaeologist I owe a coffee to. She has a hot assistant and if we are very, very lucky…"

"What?"

"She won't tear my heart out and feed it to wild dogs." Dean laughed and Sam laughed with him. "Her assistant might have a thing for geek boys."

"Thanks," Sam said, letting his head rest on the back of the seat. Dean had the window down and the cold air washed over his face, smelling fresh, full of life. He drifted off to sleep, lulled by the familiar rumble of the Impala and his brother's voice singing along with the tape.

**XXX**

The highway stretched in front of Dean, seemingly unending, the lines beginning to blur. But still he didn't stop. The urge to get as far away as he could before stopping was forcing him onwards. The wound in his side ached, he thought it felt a little sticky, like might have started bleeding again. He glanced over at Sam, still sleeping, his head resting against the window. _Is he really okay? _Dean put a hand on Sam's arm, needing the contact to confirm his brother was still there.

_This was a close call, too close. I almost lost him, and that's not an option. Never an option. Sorry, Sam. And I know I said we'd be back, but I'm not sure we will. I can't risk losing you like that. My world shattered around me. I…_He sighed, reaching across the seat again to make sure his brother was still there.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was sleepy. Dean jerked his hand back as if he had been burned. "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere," Sam said gently. "I'm okay." His brother sat up and looked over at him, he blinked and then smiled. "Really. What time is it?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. After dark."

"I can see that." Sam laughed. "Let me drive for awhile."

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean tried to sound stern. Sam frowned at him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, right." Sam reached over, his hand touching the spot over the wound. He pulled his fingers away, looking in horror at the dark spot on his hand. "Dean, pull over. Now." It was Sam's no nonsense voice, the one that always reminded Dean of their father.

"Sammy…"

"Now, Dean."

"Fine, whatever." Dean pulled the car off the road. Sam hopped out and came around the car. He opened Dean's door and pulled him around to get a better look at his side. Sam eased the t-shirt up and sucked in his breath. "I'm o…" He stopped when Sam looked at him.

"Don't even say it, Dean. You're not." Sam got up and opened the trunk and came back with the first-aid kit. He carefully cleaned the wound with shaking hands, then laid a bandage over it. "I'm driving, get out."

"Sam?" Dean looked at his brother. _Something's wrong, Sam, what?_

"I'm sorry, Dean, god, I'm sorry." Sam said, his voice barely more than a breath. "My fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"I agreed to go along with it, and I did this, I…" He looked away.

"Nope," Dean said. Sam looked up at him. "Not needed."

"Dean?"

"I know why you agreed, Sammy," he said gently. "She told me." He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But you ever, ever, ever do something like that again?"

"Yeah?" Sam said with a half smile.

"I'll kick your ass from here to next week," he pushed himself out of the car. Sam put a hand under his elbow to steady him. _Yeah, maybe driving isn't a good idea. _His brother helped him around the car and settled him in the passenger seat. Exhaustion was catching up fast, his eyes were already closing as Sam pulled back onto the road. "Thanks," he heard himself say. He slid his hand across the seat, letting it come into contact with Sam. His brother's hand dropped briefly on top of his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

"Better not." He grumbled, Sam laughed. Dean heard him rummaging in the tape box. The music stopped for a minute and then Deep Purple's "Highway Star" blasted out of the speaker. "Good choice, Sammy." He let himself relax, listening to the music, aware of his brother in the seat beside him, he drifted off, listening to Sam humming along with the music.

_**The End**_


End file.
